Skip to main content

Full text of "In darkest England, and the way out"

See other formats 


Book ,13^^-^ 


JT^- 


N   DARKEST  ENGLAND 

AND  THE  WAY   OUT 


GENERAL  BOOTH 


In  Darkest  England 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT 


BY 


GENERAL  Wm  BOOTH 


CHICAGO 
CHARLES  H  SERGEL  a  CO 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  THE  COMPANION,  ADVISER  AND  COMRADE 

Of  Nearly  40  Years, 

The  sharer  of  my  Every  Ambition 

FOR 

THE  WELFARE  OF  MANKIND, 

MY  LOVING,  FAITHFUL  AND  DEVOTED  WIFE 

This  Book  is  Dedicated. 

i 

Transfer  ^ 

engineers  School  Uby^ 
June  29,1^31 


PREFACE 

The  progress  of  The  Salvation  Army  in  its  wo.k  amongst  the  poor  and 
lost  of  many  lands  has  compelled  me  to  face  the  problems  which  are  more 
or  less  hopefully  considered  in  the  following  pages.  The  grim  necessities 
of  a  huge  Campaign  carried  on  for  many  years  against  the  evils  which  lie 
at  the  root  of  all  the  miseries  of  modern  life,  attacked  in  a  thousand  and 
one  forms  by  a  thousand  and  one  lieutenants,  have  led  me  step  by  step  to 
contemplate  as  a  possible  solution  of  at  least  some  of  those  problems  the 
Scheme  of  Social  Selection  and  Salvation  which  I  have  here  set  forth. 

When  but  a  mere  child  the  degradation  and  helpless  misery  of  the  poor 
Stockingers  of  my  native  town,  wandering  gaunt  and  hunger-stricken 
through  the  streets  droning  out  their  melancholy  ditties,  crowding  the 
Union  or  toiling  like  galley  slaves  on  relief  works  for  a  bare  subsistence, 
kindled  in  my  heart  yearnings  to  help  the  poor  which  have  continued  to 
this  day  and  which  have  had  a  powerful  influence  on  my  whole  life.  At 
last  I  may  be  going  to  see  my  longings  to  help  the  workless  realized.  I 
think  I  am. 

The  commiseration  then  awakened  by  the  misery  of  this  class  has  been 
an  impelling  force  which  has  never  ceased  to  make  itself  felt  during  forty 
years  of  active  service  in  the  salvation  of  men.  During  this  time  I  am 
thankful  that  I  have  been  able,  by  the  good  hand  of  God  upon  me,  to  do 
something  in  mitigation  of  the  miseries  of  this  class,  and  to  bring  not 
only  heavenly  hopes  and  earthly  gladness  to  the  hearts  of  multitudes  of 
these  wretched  crowds,  but  also  many  material  blessings,  including  such 
commonplace  things  as  food,  raiment,  home  and  work,  the  parent  of  so 
many  other  temporal  benefits.  And  thus  many  poor  creatures  have 
proved  Godliness  to  be  "  profitable  unto  all  things,  having  the  promise 
of  the  life  that  now  is  as  well  as  of  that  which  is  to  come. " 

These  results  have  been  mainly  attained  by  spiritual  means.  I  have 
boldly  asserted  that  whatever  his  peculiar  character  or  circumstances 
might  be,  if  the  prodigal  would  come  home  to  his  Heavenly  Father,  he 
would  find  enough  and  to  spare  in  the  Father's  house  to  supply  all  his 
Deed  both  for  this  world  and  the  next ;  and  I  have  known  thousands,  nay, 

& 


6  PREFACE 

I  can  say  tens  of  thousands,  who  have  literally  proved  this  to  be  true, 
having,  with  little  or  no  temporal  assistance,  come  out  of  the  darkest 
depths  of  destitution,  vice  and  crime,  to  be  happy  and  honest  citizens 
and  true  sons  and  servants  of  God. 

And  yet  all  the  way  through  my  career  I  have  keenly  felt  the  remedial 
measures  usually  enunciated  in  Christian  programs  and  ordinarily 
employed  by  Christian  philanthropy  to  be  lamentably  inadequate  for  any 
effectual  dealing  with  the  despairing  miseries  of  these  outcast  classes. 
The  rescued  are  appallingly  few — a  ghastly  minority  compared  with  the 
multitudes  who  struggle  and  sink  in  the  open-mouthed  abyss.  Alike, 
therefore,  my  humanity  and  my  Christianity,  if  I  may  speak  of  them  in 
any  way  as  separate  one  from  the  other,  have  cried  out  for  some  more 
comprehensive  method  of  reaching  and  saving  the  perishing  crowds. 

No  doubt  it  is  good  for  men  to  climb  unaided  out  of  the  whirlpool  on  to 
the  rock  of  deliverance  in  the  very  presence  of  the  temptations  which 
have  hitherto  mastered  them,  and  to  maintain  a  footing  there  with  the 
same  billows  of  temptation  washing  over  them.  But,  alas  !  with  many 
this  seems  to  be  literally  impossible.  That  decisiveness  of  character,  that 
moral  nerve  which  takes  hold  of  the  rope  thrown  for  the  rescue  and  keeps 
its  hold  amidst  all  the  resistances  that  have  to  be  encountered,  is  wanting. 
It  is  gone.  The  general  wreck  has  shattered  and  disorganized  the  whole  man. 

Alas,  what  multitudes  there  are  around  us  everywhere,  many  known  to 
my  readers  personally,  and  any  number  who  may  be  known  to  them 
by  a  very  short  walk  from  their  own  dwellings,  who  are  in  this  very 
plight !  Their  vicious  habits  and  destitute  circumstances  make  it  certain 
that,  without  some  kind  of  extraordinary  help,  they  must  hunger  and  sin, 
and  sin  and  hunger,  until,  having  multiplied  their  kind,  and  filled  up  the 
measure  of  their  miseries,  the  gaunt  fingers  of  death  will  close  upon  them 
and  terminate  their  wretchedness.  And  all  this  will  happen  this  very 
winter  in  the  midst  of  the  unparalleled  wealth,  and  civilization,  and  philan- 
thropy of  this  professedly  most  Christian  land. 

Now  I  propose  to  go  straight  for  these  sinking  classes,  and  in  doing  so, 
shall  continue  to  aim  at  the  heart.  I  still  prophesy  the  uttermost 
disappointment  unless  that  citadel  is  reached.  In  proposing  to  add  one 
more  to  the  methods  I  have  already  put  into  operation  to  this  end,  do  not 
let  it  be  supposed  that  I  am  the  less  dependent  upon  the  old  plans,  or  that 
I  seek  anything  short  of  the  old  conquest.  If  we  help  the  man  it  is  in 
order  that  we  may  change  him.  The  builder  who  should  elaborate  his 
design  and  erect  his  house  and  risk  his  reputation  without  burning 
his  bricks  would  be  pronounced  a  failure  and  a  fool.  Perfection  of 
architectural  beauty,  unlimited  expenditure  of  capital,  unfailing  watchful- 
ness of  his  laborers,  would  avail  him  nothing  if  the  bricks  were  merely 
unkilned  clay.  Let  him  kindle  a  fire.  And  so  here  I  see  the  folly  of 
hoping  to  accomplish  anything  abiding,  either  in  the  circumstances  or  the 


morals  of  these  hopeless  classes,  except  there  be  a  change  affected  in  the 
whole  man  as  well  as  in  his  surroundings.  To  this  everything  I  hope  to 
attempt  will  tend.  In  many  cases  I  shall  succeed,  in  some  I  shall  fail; 
but  even  in  failing  of  this  my  ultimate  design,  I  shall  at  least  benefit  the 
bodies,  if  not  the  souls,  of  men;  and  if  I  do  not  save  the  fathers,  I  shall 
make  a  better  chance  for  the  children. 

It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  in  this  or  any  other  development  that 
may  follow,  I  have  no  intention  to  depart  in  the  smallest  degree  from  the 
main  principles  on  which  I  have  acted  in  the  past.  My  only  hope  for  the 
permanent  deliverance  of  mankind  from  misery,  either  in  this  world  or 
the  next,  is  the  regeneration  or  remaking  of  the  individual  by  the  power 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  through  Jesus  Christ.  But  in  providing  for  the  relief 
of  temporal  misery,  I  reckon  that  I  am  only  making  it  easy  where  it  is  now 
difficult,  and  possible  where  it  is  now  all  but  impossible,  for  men  and 
women  to  find  their  way  to  the  Cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

That  I  have  confidence  in  my  proposals  goes  without  saying.  I  believe 
they  will  work.  In  miniature  many  of  them  are  working  already.  But 
I  do  not  claim  that  my  Scheme  is  either  perfect  in  its  details  or  complete 
in  the  sense  of  being  adequate  to  combat  all  forms  of  the  gigantic  evils 
against  which  it  is  in  the  main  directed.  Like  other  human  things  it  must 
be  perfected  through  suffering.  But  it  is  a  sincere  endeavor  to 
do  something,  and  to  do  it  on  principles  which  can  be  instantly  applied 
and  universally  developed.  Time,  experience,  criticism,  and,  above  all, 
the  guidance  of  God  will  enable  us,  I  hope,  to  advance  on  the  lines  here 
laid  down  to  a  true  and  partial  application  of  the  words  of  the  Hebrew 
Prophet:  "Loose  the  bands  of  wickedness;  undo  the  heavy  burdens;  let 
the  oppressed  go  free;  break  every  yoke;  deal  thy  bread  to  the  hungry; 
bring  the  poor  that  are  cast  out,  to  thy  house.  When  thou  seest  the 
naked  cover  him,  and  hide  not  thyself  from  thine  own  flesh.  Draw  out 
thy  soul  to  the  hungry — Then  they  that  be  of  thee  shall  build  the  old 
waste  places  and  Thou  shalt  raise  up  the  foundations  of  many  generations. " 

To  one  who  has  been  for  thirty-five  years  indissolubly  associated  with  m.e 
in  every  undertaking,  I  owe  much  of  the  inspiration  which  has  found  expres- 
sion in  this  book.  It  is  probably  difiicult  for  me  to  fully  estimate  the  ex- 
tent to  which  the  splendid  benevolence  and  unbounded  sympathy  of  her 
character  have  pressed  me  forward  in  the  life-long  service  of  man.  to 
which  we  have  devoted  both  ourselves  and  our  children.  It  will  be  an  ever 
green  and  precious  memory  to  me  that  amid  the  ceaseless  suffering  of  a 
dreadful  malady  my  dying  wife  found  relief  in  considering  and  develop- 
ing the  suggestions  for  the  moral  and  social  and  spiritual  blessing  of  the 
people  which  are  here  set  forth,  and  I  do  thank  God  she  was  taken  from 
me  only  when  the  book  was  practically  complete  and  the  last  chapters 
had  been  sent  to  the  press. 

In  conclusion,  I  have  to  acknowledge  the  services  rendered  to  me  in 


3  PREFACE 

preparing  this  book  by  officers  under  my  command.  There  could  be  no 
hope  of  carrying  out  any  part  of  it.  but  for  the  fact  that  so  many  thous- 
ands are  ready  at  my  call  and  under  my  direction  to  labor  to  the  very  ut- 
most of  their  strength  for  the  salvation  of  others  without  the  hope  of 
earthly  reward.  Of  the  practical  common  sense,  tha  resource,  the  readi- 
ness for  every  form  of  usefulness  of  those  officers  and  soldiers,  the  world 
has  no  conception.  Still  less  is  it  capable  of  understanding  the  height  and 
depth  of  their  self-sacrificing  devotion  to  God  and  the  poor. 

I  have  also  to  acknowledge  valuable  literary  help  from  a  friend  of 
the  poor,  who,  though  not  in  any  way  connected  with  the  Salvation 
Army,  has  the  deepest  sympathy  with  its  aims  and  is  to  a  large  extenf  in 
harmony  with  its  principles.  Without  such  assistance  I  should  probably 
have  found  it — overwhelmed  as  I  already  am  with  the  affairs  of  a  world- 
wide enterprise — extremely  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  have  presented 
these  proposals  for  which  I  am  alone  responsible,  in  so  complete  a  form, 
at  any  rate  at  this  time.  I  have  no  doubt  that  if  any  substantial  part  of 
my  plan  is  successfully  carried  out,  he  will  consider  himself  more  than 
repaid  for  the  services  so  ably  rendered. 

WILLIAM  BOOTH. 

International  Headquarters  of 

The  Salvation  Army, 

London,  E,  C,  October,  1890. 


IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 


PART  I.— THE  DARKNESS 


CHAPTER  I 

WHY    "darkest    ENGLAND?" 

This  summer  the  attention  of  the  civilized  world  has 
been  arrested  by  the  story  which  Mr.  Stanley  has  told  of 
"Darkest  Africa,"  and  his  journeyings  across  the  heart 
of  the  Lost  Continent.  In  all  that  spirited  narrative  of 
heroic  endeavor,  nothing  has  so  much  impressed  the 
imagination  as  his  description  of  the  immense  forest, 
which  offered  an  almost  impenetrable  barrier  to  his  ad- 
vance. The  intrepid  explorer,  in  his  own  phrase, 
"marched,  tore,  ploughed,  and  cut  his  way  for  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  days  through  this  inner  womb  of  the  true 
tropical  forest."  The  mind  of  man  with  difficulty  en- 
deavors to  realize  this  immensity  of  wooded  wilderness, 
covering  a  territory  half  as  large  again  as  the  whole  of 
France,  where  the  rays  of  the  sun  never  penetrate,  where 
in  the  dark,  dank  air,  filled  with  the  steam  of  the  heated 
morass,  human  beings,  dwarfed  into  pygmies  and  brutal- 
ized into  cannibals,  lurk  and  live  and  die.  Mr.  Stanley 
vainly  endeavors  to  bring  home  to  us  the  full  horror  of 
that  awful  gloom.      He  says: 

9 


10  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Take  a  thick  Scottish  copse  dripping  with  rain;  imagine 
this  to  be  a  mere  undergrowth  nourished  under  the  im- 
penetrable shade  of  ancient  trees  ranging  from  loo  to 
i8o  feet  high;  briars  and  thorns  abundant;  lazy  creeks 
meandering  through  the  depths  of  the  jungle,  and  some- 
times a  deep  affluent  of  a  great  river.  Imagine  this  for- 
est and  jungle  in  all  stages  of  decay  and  growth,  rain 
pattering  on  you  every  day  of  the  year;  an  impure 
atmosphere  with  its  dread  consequences,  fever  and  dys- 
entery; gloom  throughout  the  day,  and  darkness  almost 
palpable  throughout  the  night;  and  then  if  you  can 
imagine  such  a  forest  extending  the  entire  distance  from 
Plymouth  to  Peterhead,  you  will  have  a  fair  idea  of  some 
of  the  inconveniences  endured  by  us  in  the  Congo  forest. 

The  denizens  of  this  region  are  filled  with  a  convic- 
tion that  the  forest  is  endless — interminable.  In  vain  did 
Mr.  Stanley  and  his  companions  endeavor  to  convince 
them  that  outside  the  dreary  wood  were  to  be  found  sun- 
light, pasturage,  and  peaceful  meadows. 

They  replied  in  a  manner  that  seemed  to  imply  that 
we  must  be  strange  creatures  to  suppose  that  it  would 
be  possible  for  any  world  to  exist  save  their  illimitable 
forest.  "No,"  they  replied,  shaking  their  heads  com- 
passionately, and  pitying  our  absurd  questions,  "all  like 
this,"  and  they  moved  their  hands  sweepingly  to  illus- 
trate that  the  world  was  all  alike,  nothing  but  trees, 
trees,  and  trees — great  trees  rising  as  high  as  an  arrow 
shot  to  the  sky,  lifting  their  crowns,  intertwining  their 
branches,  pressing  and  crowding  one  against  the  other, 
until  neither  the  sunbeam  nor  shaft  of  light  can  penetrate  it. 

"We  entered  the  forest,"  says  Mr.  Stanley,  "with  con- 
fidence; forty  pioneers  in  front  with  axes  and  bill-hooks 
to  clear  a  path  through  the  obstructions,  praying  that 
God  and  good  fortune  would  lead  us,"  But  before  the 
conviction  of  the  fore??r  dweTS^l-^  Tliat  the  forest  was 
without  end,  hope  faded  out  of  th^  hejirts  of  the  natives 
cf  Stanley's  company.  The  men  became  sodden  with 
despair;  preaching  was  useless  to  move  their  brooding 
suUenness,  their  morbid  gloom. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  11 

The  little  religion  they  knew  was  nothing  more  that 
legendary  lore,  and  in  their  memories  there  dimly 
floated  a  story  of  a  land  which  grew  darker  and  darker 
as  one  traveled  towards  the  end  of  the  earth  and  drew 
nearer  to  the  place  where  a  great  serpent  lay  supine  and 
coiled  round  the  whole  world.  Ah!  then  the  ancients  must 
have  referred  to  this,  where  the  light  is  so  ghastly,  and 
the  woods  are  endless,  and  are  so  still  and  solemn  and 
gray;  to  this  oppressive  loneliness,  amid  so  much  life, 
which  is  so  chilling  to  the  poor  distressed  heart;  and  the 
horror  grew  darker  with  their  fancies;  the  cold  of  early 
morning,  the  comfortless  gray  of  dawn,  the  dead  white 
mist,  the  ever-dripping  tears  of  the  dew,  the  deluging 
rains,  the  appalling  thunder  bursts  and  the  echoes,  and 
the  wonderful  play  of  the  dazzling  lightning.  And  when 
the  night  comes  with  its  thick  palpable  darkness,  and 
they  lie  huddled  in  their  damp  little  huts,  and  they  hear 
the  tempest  overhead,  and  the  howling  of  the  wild 
winds,  the  grinding  and  groaning  of  the  storm-tossed  trees, 
and  the  dread  sounds  of  the  falling  giants,  and  the  shock 
of  the  trembling  earth  which  sends  their  hearts  with 
fitful  leaps  to  their  throats,  and  the  roaring  and  a  rush- 
ing as  of  a  mad  overwhelming  sea — oh,  then  the  horror  is 
intensified !  When  the  march  has  begun  once  again, 
and  the  files  are  slowly  moving  through  the  woods,  they 
renew  their  morbid  broodings,  and  ask  themselves:  How 
long  is  this  to  last?  Is  the  joy  of  life  to  end  thus? 
Must  we  jog  on  day  after  day  in  this  cheerless  gloom 
and  this  joyless  duskiness,  until  we  stagger  and  fall 
and  rot  among  the  toads?  Then  they  disappear  into 
the  woods  by  twos,  and  threes,  and  sixes;  and  after  the 
caravan  has  passed  they  return  by  the  trail,  some  to 
reach  Yambuya  and  upset  the  young  officers  with  their 
tales  of  woe  and  war;  some  to  fall  sobbing  under  a  spear- 
thrust;  some  to  wander  and  stray  in  the  dark  mazes  of 
the  woods,  hopelessly  lost,  and  some  to  be  carved  for 
the  cannibal  feast.  And  those  who  remain,  compelled  to 
it  by  fears  of  greater  danger,  mechanically  march  on,  a 
prey  of  dread  and  weakness. 

That  is  the  forest.  But  what  of  its  denizens?  They 
are  comparatively   few;    only  some   hundreds   of    thou- 


12  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

sands,  living  in  small  tribes  from  ten  to  thirty  miles 
apart,  scattered  over  an  area  on  which  ten  thousand 
million  trees  put  out  the  sun  from  a  region  four  times 
as  wide  as  Great  Britain.  Of  these  pygmies  there  are 
two  kinds:  one  a  very  degraded  specimen  with  ferret-like 
eyes,  close-set  nose,  more  nearly  approaching  the  bab- 
oon than  was  supposed  to  be  possible,  but  very  human; 
the  other  very  handsome,  with  frank,  open,  innocent  feat- 
ures, very  prepossessing.  They  are  quick  and  intelli- 
gent, capable  of  deep  affection  and  gratitude,  showing 
remarkable  industry  and  patience.  A  pygmy  boy  of 
eighteen  worked  with  consuming  zeal;  time  with  him 
was  too  precious  to  waste  in  talk.  His  mind  seemed 
ever  concentrated  on  work.      Mr.  Stanley  said: 

"When  I  once  stopped  him  to  ask  him  his  name,  his 
face  seemed  to  say,  'Please  don't  stop  me.  I  must  fin- 
ish my  task.' 

"All  alike,  the  baboon  variety  and  the  handsome  inno- 
cents, are  cannibals.  They  are  possessed  with  a  perfect 
mania  for  meat.  We  were  obliged  to  bury  our  dead  in 
the  river,  lest  the  bodies  should  be  exhumed  and  eaten, 
even  when  they  had  died  from  small-pox." 

Upon  the  pygmies  and  all  the  dwellers  of  the  forest 
has  descended  a  devastating  visitation  in  the  shape  of  the 
ivory  raiders  of  civilization.  The  race  that  wrote  the 
Arabian  Nights,  built  Bagdad  and  Granada,  and  invented 
Algebra,  sends  forth  men  with  the  hunger  for  gold  in 
their  hearts,  and  Enfield  muskets  in  their  hands,  to  plunder 
and  to  slay.  They  exploit  the  domestic  affections  of  the 
forest  dwellers  in  order  to  strip  them  of  all  they  possess 
in  the  world.  That  has  been  going  on  for  years.  It  is 
going  on  to-day.  It  has  come  to  be  regarded  as  the 
natural  and  normal  law  of  existence.  Of  the  religion  of 
these  hunted  pygmies  Mr.  Stanley  tells  us  nothing,  per- 
haps   because   there    is   nothing  to  tell.     But  an  earlier 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  in 

traveler,  Dr.  Kraff,  says  that  one  of  these  tribes,  by  name 
Doko,  had  some  notion  of  a  Supreme  Being,  to  whom, 
under  the  name  of  Yer,  they  sometimes  addressed  prayers 
in  moments  of  sadness  or  terror.  In  these  prayers  they 
say:  "Oh  Yer,  if  Thou  dost  really  exist,  why  dost  Thou 
let  us  be  slaves?  We  ask  not  for  food  or  clothing,  for 
we  live  on  snakes,  ants,  and  mice.  Thou  hast  made  us; 
wherefore  dost  Thou  let  us  be  trodden  down?" 

It  is  a  terrible  picture,  and  one  that  has  engraved  itself 
deep  on  the  heart  of  civilization.  But  while  brooding 
over  the  awful  presentation  of  life  as  it  exists  in  the  vast 
African  forest,  it  seemed  to  me  only  too  vivid  a  picture 
of  many  parts  of  our  own  land.  As  there  is  a  darkest 
Africa,  is  there  not  also  a  darkest  England?  Civiliza- 
tion, which  can  breed  its  own  barbarians,  does  it  not  also 
breed  its  own  pygmies?  May  we  not  find  a  parallel  at 
our  own  doors,  and  discover  within  a  stone's  throw  of  our 
cathedrals  and  palaces  similar  horrors  to  those  which 
Stanley  has  found  existing  in  the  great  Equatorial  forest? 

The  more  the  mind  dwells  upon  the  subject,  the  closer 
the  analogy  appears.  The  ivory  raiders  who  brutally 
traffic  in  the  unfortunate  denizens  of  the  forest  glades, 
what  are  they  but  the  publicans  who  flourish  on  the 
weakness  of  our  poor?  The  two  tribes  of  savages,  the 
human  baboon  and  the  handsome  dwarf,  who  will  not 
speak  lest  it  impede  him  in  his  task,  may  be  accepted 
as  the  two  varieties  who  are  continually  present  with  us  — 
the  vicious,  lazy  lout,  and  the  toiling  slave.  They,  too, 
have  lost  all  faith  of  life  being  other  than  it  is  and  has 
been.  As  in  Africa  it  is  all  trees,  trees,  trees,  with  no 
other  world  conceivable,  so  is  it  here — it  is  all  vice  and 
poverty  and  crime.  To  many  the  world  is  all  slum,  with 
the  Workhouse  as  an  intermediate  purgatory  before  the 
grave.  And  just  as  Mr.  Stanley's  Zanzibaris  lost  faith, 
and  could  only  be  induced  to  plod  on  in  brooding  sullen- 


14  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

ness  of  dull  despair,  so  the  most  of  our  social  reformers, 
no  matter  how  cheerily  they  may  have  started  off,  with 
forty  pioneers  swinging  blithely  their  axes  as  they  force 
their  way  into  the  wood,  soon  become  depressed  and 
despairing.  Who  can  battle  against  the  ten  thousand 
million  trees?  Who  can  hope  to  make  headway  against 
the  innumerable  adverse  conditions  which  doom  the 
dweller  in  Darkest  England  to  eternal  and  immutable 
misery?  What  wonder  is  it  that  many  of  the  warmest 
hearts  and  enthusiastic  workers  feel  disposed  to  repeat 
the  lament  of  the  old  English  chronicler,  who,  speaking 
of  the  evil  days  which  fell  upon  our  forefathers  in  the 
reign  of  Stephen,  said,  "It  seemed  to  them  as  if  God  and 
His  Saints  were  dead." 

An  analogy  is  as  good  as  a  suggestion;  it  becomes  weari- 
some when  it  is  pressed  too  far.  But  before  leaving  it, 
think  for  a  moment  how  close  the  parallel  is,  and  how 
strange  it  is  that  so  much  interest  should  be  excited  by 
a  narrative  of  human  squalor  and  human  heroism  in  a 
distant  continent,  while  greater  squalor  and  heroism  not 
less  magnificent  may  be  observed  at  our  very  doors. 

The  Equatorial  Forest  traversed  by  Stanley  resembles 
that  Darkest  England  of  which  I  have  to  speak,  alike  in 
its  vast  extent — both  stretch,  in  Stanley's  phrase,  "as  far 
as  from  Plymouth  to  Peterhead;  "  its  monotonous  dark- 
ness, its  malaria  and  its  gloom,  its  dwarfish  de-human- 
ized inhabitants,  the  slavery  to  which  they  are  sub- 
jected, their  privations  and  their  misery.  That  which 
sickens  the  stoutest  heart,  and  causes  many  of  our  brav- 
est and  best  to  fold  their  hands  in  despair,  is  the  ap- 
parent impossibility  of  doing  more  than  merely  to  peck 
at  the  outside  of  the  endless  tangle  of  monotonous  un- 
dergrowth; to  let  light  into  it,  to  make  a  road  clear 
through  it,  that  shall  not  be  immediately  choked  up  by 
the    ooze    of    the  morass  and    the  luxuriant   parasitical 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  15 

growth  of  the  forest — who  dare  hope  for  that?  At  pres- 
ent, alas,  it  would  seem  as  though  no  one  dares  even  to 
hope!      It  is  the  great  Slough  of  Despond  of  our  time. 

And  what  a  slough  it  is  no  man  can  gauge  who  has  not 
waded  therein,  as  some  of  us  have  done,  up  to  the  very 
neck  for  long  years.  Talk  about  Dante's  Hell,  and 
all  the  horrors  and  cruelties  of  the  torture-chamber  of 
the  lost!  The  man  who  walks  with  open  eyes  and  with 
bleeding  heart  through  the  shambles  of  our  civilization 
needs  no  such  fantastic  images  of  the  poet  to  teach  him 
horror.  Often  and  often,  when  I  have  seen  the  young 
and  the  poor  and  the  helpless  go  down  before  my  eyes 
into  the  morass,  trampled  underfoot  by  beasts  of  prey  in 
human  shape  that  haunt  these  regions,  it  seemed  as  if 
God  were  no  longer  in  His  world,  but  that  in  His  stead 
reigned  a  fiend,  merciless  as  Hell,  ruthless  as  the  grave. 
Hard  it  is,  no  doubt,  to  read  in  Stanley' s  pages  of  the  slave- 
traders  coldly  arranging  for  the  surprise  of  a  village,  the 
capture  of  the  inhabitants,  the  massacre  of  those  who 
resist,  and  the  violation  of  all  the  women;  but  the  stony 
streets  of  London,  if  they  could  but  speak,  would  tell 
of  tragedies  as  awful,  of  ruin  as  complete,  of  ravishments 
as  horrible,  as  if  we  were  in  Central  Africa;  only  the 
ghastly  devastation  is  covered,  corpse-like,  with  the  arti- 
ficialities and  hypocrisies  of  modern  civilization. 

The  lot  of  a  negress  in  the  Equatorial  Forest  is  not, 
perhaps,  a  very  happy  one,  but  is  it  so  very  much  worse 
than  that  of  many  a  pretty  orphan  girl  in  our  Christian 
capital?  We  talk  about  the  brutalities  of  the  dark  ages, 
and  we  profess  to  shudder  as  we  read  in  books  of  the 
shameful  exaction  of  the  rights  of  feudal  superior.  And 
yet  here,  beneath  our  very  eyes,  in  our  theatres,  in  our 
restaurants,  and  in  many  other  places,  unspeakable  though 
it  be  but  to  name  it,  the  same  hideous  abuse  flourishes 
unchecked.      A  young  penniless  girl,  if  she  be  pretty,  is 


16  IN  DARKEST  ENGLANI) 

often  hunted  from  pillar  to  post  by  her  employers,  con- 
fronted always  by  the  alternative — Starve  or  Sin.  And 
when  once  the  poor  girl  has  consented  to  buy  the  right  to 
earn  her  living  by  the  sacrifice  of  her  virtue,  then  she  is 
treated  as  a  slave  and  an  outcast  by  the  very  men  who 
have  ruined  her.  Her  word  becomes  unbelievable,  her  life 
an  ignominy,  and  she  is  swept  downward,  ever  downward, 
into  the  bottomless  perdition  of  prostitution.  But 
there,  even  in  the  lowest  depths,  excommunicated  by 
Humanity  and  outcast  from  God,  she  is  far  nearer  the 
pitying  heart  of  the  One  true  Saviour  than  all  the  men 
who  forced  her  down,  aye,  and  than  all  the  Pharisees 
and  Scribes  who  stand  silently  by  while  these  fiendish 
wrongs  are  perpetrated  before  their  very  eyes. 

The  blood  boils  with  impotent  rage  at  the  sight  of 
these  enormities,  callously  inflicted,  and  silently  borne 
by  these  miserable  victims.  Nor  is  it  only  women  who 
are  the  victims,  although  their  fate  is  the  most  tragic. 
Those  firms  which  reduce  sweating  to  a  fine  art,  who  sys- 
tematically and  deliberately  defraud  the  workman  of  his 
pay,  who  grind  the  faces  of  the  poor,  and  who  rob  the 
widow  and  the  orphan,  and  who  for  a  pretense  make 
great  professions  of  public  spirit  and  philanthropy,  these 
men  nowadays  are  sent  to  Parliament  to  make  laws  for 
the  people.  The  old  prophets  sent  them  to  Hell — but 
we  have  changed  all  that.  They  send  their  victims  to 
Hell,  and  are  rewarded  by  all  that  wealth  can  do  to 
make  their  lives  comfortable.  Read  the  House  of 
Lords'  Report  on  the  Sweating  System,  and  ask  if  any 
African  slave  system,  making  due  allowance  for  the  su- 
perior civilization,  and  therefore  sensitiveness,  of  the 
victims,  reveals  more  misery. 

Darkest  England,  like  Darkest  Africa,  reeks  with  ma- 
laria. The  foul  and  fetid  breath  of  our  slums  is  almost 
as  poisonous    as  that    of    the   African  swamp.     Fever    is 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  17 

almost  as  chronic  there  as  on  the  Equator.  Every  year 
thousands  of  children  are  killed  off  by  what  is  called  de- 
fects of  our  sanitary  system.  They  are  in  reality  starved 
and  poisoned,  and  all  that  can  be  said  is  that,  in  many 
cases,  it  is  better  for  them  that  they  were  taken  away 
from  the  trouble  to  come. 

Just  as  in  Darkest  Africa  it  is  only  a  part  of  the  evil 
and  misery  that  comes  from  the  superior  race  who  invade 
the  forest  to  enslave  and  massacre  its  miserable  inhab- 
itants, so  with  us,  much  of  the  misery  of  those  whose 
lot  we  are  considering  arises  from  their  own  habits. 
Drunkenness  and  all  manner  of  uncleanness,  moral  and 
physical,  abound.  Have  you  ever  watched  by  the  bed- 
side of  a  man  in  delirium  tremens?  Multiply  the  suffer- 
ings of  that  one  drunkard  by  the  hundred  thousand,  and 
you  have  some  idea  of  what  scenes  are  being  witnessed 
in  all  our  great  cities  at  this  moment.  As  in  Africa 
streams  intersect  the  forest  in  every  direction,  so  the  gin- 
shop  stands  at  every  corner,  with  its  River  of  the  Water 
of  Death  flowing  seventeen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four 
for  the  destruction  of  the  people.  A  population  sodden 
with  drink,  steeped  in  vice,  eaten  up  by  every  social  and 
physical  malady,  these  are  the  denizens  of  Darkest  Eng- 
land amidst  whom  my  life  has  been  spent,  and  to  whose 
rescue  I  would  now  summon  all  that  is  best  in  the  man- 
hood and  womanhood  of  our  land. 

But  this  book  is  no  mere  lamentation  of  despair.  For 
Darkest  England,  as  for  Darkest  Africa,  there  is  a  light 
beyond.  I  think  I  see  my  way  out,  a  way  by  which 
these  wretched  ones  may  escape  from  the  gloom  of  their 
miserable  existence  into  a  higher  and  happier  life.  Long 
wandering  in  the  Forest  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  at  our 
doors,  has  familiarized  me  with  its  horrors;  but  while 
the  realization  is  a  vigorous  spur  to  action,  it  has  never 
been  so  oppressive  as  to  extinguish  hope.     Mr.   Stanley 


18  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

never  succumbed  to  the  terrors  which  oppressed  his  fol- 
lowers. He  had  lived  in  a  larger  life,  and  knew  that  the 
forest,  though  long,  was  not  interminable.  Every  step 
forward  brought  him  nearer  his  destined  goal,  nearer  to 
the  light  of  the  sun,,  the  clear  sky,  and  the  rolling  uplands 
of  the  grazing  land.  Therefore  he  did  not  despair.  The 
Equatorial  Forest  was,  after  all,  a  mere  corner  of  one 
quarter  of  the  world.  In  the  knowledge  of  the  light 
outside,  in  the  confidence  begotten  by  past  experience  of 
successful  endeavor,  he  pressed  forward;  and  when  the 
i6o  days'  struggle  was  over,  he  and  his  men  came  out 
into  a  pleasant  place  where  the  land  smiled  with  peace 
and  plenty,  and  their  hardships  and  hunger  were  forgot- 
ten in  the  joy  of  a  great  deliverance. 

So  I  venture  to  believe  it  will  be  with  us.  But  the  end 
is  not  yet.  We  are  still  in  the  depths  of  the  depress- 
ing gloom.  It  is  in  no  spirit  of  light-heartedness  that 
this  book  is  sent  forth  into  the  world  as  it  was  written 
some  ten  years  ago. 

If  this  were  the  first  time  that  this  wail  of  hopeless 
misery  had  sounded  on  our  ears,  the  matter  would  have 
been  less  serious.  It  is  because  we  have  heard  it  so 
often  that  the  case  is  so  desperate.  The  exceeding  bitter 
cry  of  the  disinherited  has  become  to  be  as  familiar  in 
the  ears  of  men  as  the  dull  roar  of  the  streets  or  as  the 
moaning  of  the  wind  through  the  trees.  And  so  it  rises 
unceasing,  year  in  and  57ear  out,  and  we  are  too  busy  or 
too  idle,  too  indifferent  or  too  selfish,  to  spare  it  a 
thought.  Only  now  and  then,  on  rare  occasions,  when 
some  clear  voice  is  heard  giving  more  articulate  utter- 
ance to  the  miseries  of  the  miserable  men,  do  we  pause 
in  the  regular  routine  of  our  daily  duties,  and  shudder 
as  we  realize  for  one  brief  moment  what  life  means  to 
the  inmates  of  the  Slums.  But  one  of  the  grimmest 
social  problems  of  our  time  should  be  sternly  faced,  not 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  19 

with  a  view  to  the  generation  of  profitless  emotion,  but 
with  a  view  to  its  solution. 

Is  it  not  time?  There  is,  it  is  true,  an  audacity  in  the 
mere  suggestion  that  the  problem  is  not  insoluble  that 
is  enough  to  take  away  the  breath.  But  can  nothing  be 
done?  If,  after  full  and  exhaustive  consideration,  we  come 
to  the  deliberate  conclusion  that  nothing  can  be  done, 
and  that  it  is  the  inevitable  and  inexorable  destiny  of 
thousands  of  Englishmen  to  be  brutalized  into  worse 
than  beasts  b}^  the  condition  of  their  environment,  so 
be  it.  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  we  are  unable  to  believe 
that  this  "awful  slough,"  which  engulfs  the  manhood 
and  womanhood  of  generation  after  generation,  is  inca- 
pable of  removal;  and  if  the  heart  and  intellect  of  man- 
kind alike  revolt  against  the  fatalism  of  despair,  then, 
indeed,  it  is  time,  and  high  time,  that  the  question  were 
faced  in  no  mere  dilettante  spirit,  but  with  a  resolute 
determination  to  make  an  end  of  the  crying  scandal  of 
our  age. 

What  a  satire  it  is  upon  our  Christianity  and  our  civ- 
ilization, that  the  existence  of  these  colonies  of  heathens 
and  savages  in  the  heart  of  our  capital  should  attract  so 
little  attention!  It  is  no  better  than  a  ghastly  mockery 
— theologians  might  use  a  stronger  word — to  call  by  the 
name  of  One  w^ho  came  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which 
was  lost  those  Churches  which,  in  the  midst  of  lost 
multitudes,  either  sleep  in  apathy  or  display  a  fitful  in- 
terest in  a  chasuble.  Why  all  this  apparatus  of  tem- 
ples and  meeting-houses  to  save  men  from  perdition  in 
a  world  which  is  to  come,  while  never  a  helping  hand 
is  stretched  out  to  save  them  from  the  inferno  of  their 
present  life?  Is  it  not  time  that,  forgetting  for  a  mo- 
ment their  wranglings  about  the  infinitely  little  or  infin- 
itely obscure,  they  should  concentrate  all  their  energies 
gn  aunitedeiKort  to  break  this  terrible  perpetuity  of  per- 


20  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

dition,  and    to  rescue    some    at  least  of  those  for  whom 
they  prof  ess  to  believe  their  Founder  came  to  die? 

Before  venturing  to  define  the  remedy,  I  begin  by 
describing  the  malady.  But  even  when  presenting  the 
dreary  picture  of  our  social  ills,  and  describing  the  diffi- 
culties which  confront  us,  I  speak  not  in  despondency, 
but  in  hope.  "I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed."  I 
know,  therefore  do  I  speak.  "Darker  England"  is  but 
a  fractional  part  of  "Greater  England."  There  is  wealth 
enough  abundantly  to  minister  to  its  social  regeneration 
so  far  as  wealth  can,  if  there  be  but  heart  enough  to  set 
about  the  work  in  earnest.  And  I  hope  and  believe  that 
the  heart  will  not  be  lacking  when  once  the  problem  is 
manfully  faced,  and  the  method  of  its  solution  plainly 
pointed  out. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    SUBMERGED    TENTH 

In  setting  forth  the  difficulties  which  have  to  be  grap- 
pled with,  I  shall  endeavor  in  all  things  to  understate 
rather  than  overstate  my  case.  I  do  this  for  two  reasons: 
first,  any  exaggeration  would  create  a  reaction;  and  sec- 
ondly, as  my  object  is  to  demonstrate  the  practicability 
of  solving  the  problem,  I  do  not  wish  to  magnify  its 
dimensions.  In  this  and  in  subsequent  chapters  I  hope 
to  convince  those  who  read  them  that  there  is  no  over- 
straining in  the  representation  of  the  facts,  and  nothing 
Utopian  in  the  presentation  of  remedies.  I  appeal 
neither  to  hysterical  emotionalists  nor  headlong  enthusi- 
asts; but  having  tried  to  approach  the  examination  of 
this  question  in  a  spirit  of  scientific  investigation,  I  put 
forth  my  proposals  with  the  view  of  securing  the  support 
and  cooperation  of  the  sober,  serious,  practical  men  and 
women  who  constitute  the  saving  strength  and  moral 
backbone  of  the  country.  I  fully  admit  that  there  is 
much  that  is  lacking  in  the  diagnosis  of  the  disease,  and, 
no  doubt,  in  this  first  draft  of  the  prescription  there  is 
much  room  for  improvement,  which  will  come  when  we 
have  the  light  of  fuller  experience.  But  with  all  its 
drawbacks  and  defects,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  submit  my 
proposals  to  the  impartial  judgment  of  all  who  are  in- 
terested in  the  solution  of  the  social  question  as  an  im- 
mediate and  practical  mode  of  dealing  with  this,  the 
greatest  problem  of  our  time. 

21 


IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

The  first  duty  of  an  investigator  in  approaching  the 
study  of  any  question  is  to  eliminate  all  that  is  foreign 
to  the  inquiry,  and  to  concentrate  his  attention  upon  the 
subject  to  be  dealt  with.  Here  I  may  remark  that  I 
make  no  attempt  in  this  book  to  deal  with  Society  as  a 
whole.  I  leave  to  others  the  formulation  of  ambitious 
programmes  for  the  reconstruction  of  our  entire  social 
system;  not  because  I  may  not  desire  its  reconstruc- 
tion, but  because  the  consideration  of  any  plans 
which  are  more  or  less  visionary  and  incapable  of  realiza- 
tion for  many  years  would  stand  in  the  way  of  the  con- 
sideration of  this  Scheme  for  dealing  with  the  most 
urgently  pressing  aspect  of  the  question,  which  I  hope 
may  be  put  into  operation  at  once. 

In  taking  this  course  I  am  aware  that  I  cut  myself  off 
from  a  wide  and  attractive  field;  but  as  a  practical  man, 
dealing  with  sternly  prosaic  facts,  I  must  confine  my 
attention  to  that  particular  section  of  the  problem  which 
clamors  most  pressingly  for  a  solution.  Only  one  thing 
I*may  say  in  passing.  There  is  nothing  in  my  scheme 
which  will  bring  it  into  collision  either  with  Socialists 
of  the  State  or  Socialists  of  the  Municipality,  with  In- 
dividualists or  Nationalists,  or  any  of  the  various  schools 
of  thought  in  the  great  field  of  social  economics — except- 
ing only  those  anti-Christian  economists  who  hold  that 
it  is  an  offense  against  the  doctrine  of  the  survival  of  the 
fittest  to  try  to  save  the  weakest  from  going  to  the  wall, 
and  who  believe  that  when  once  a  man  is  down  the  su- 
preme duty  of  a  self-regarding  Society  is  to  jump  upon 
him.  Such  economists  will  naturally  be  disappointed 
with  this  book.  I  venture  to  believe  that  all  others 
will  find  nothing  in  it  to  offend  their  favorite  theories, 
but  perhaps  something  of  helpful  suggestion  which  they 
may  utilize  hereafter. 
What,  then,  is    Darkest    England?    For    whom    do    we 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  23 

claim  that  "urgency"  which  gives  their  case  priority  over 
that  of  all  other  sections  of  their  countrymen  and  coun- 
trywomen? 

I  claim  it  for  the  Lost,  foi*  the  Outcast,  for  the  Dis- 
inherited of  the  World. 

These,  it  may  be  said,  are  but  phrases.  Who  are  the 
Lost?  I  reply,  not  in  a  religious,  but  in  a  social  sense, 
the  lost  are  those  who  have  gone  under,  who  have  lost 
their  foothold  in  Society;  those  to  whom  the  prayer  to 
our  Heavenly  Father,  "Give  us  day  by  day  our  daily 
bread,"  is  either  unfulfilled,  or  only  fulfilled  by  the 
Devil's  agency:  by  the  earnings  of  vice,  the  proceeds  of 
crime,  or  the  contribution  enforced  by  the  threat  of  the 
law. 

But  I  will  be  more  precise.  The  denizens  in  Darkest 
England,  for  whom  I  appeal,  are  (i)  those  who,  having 
no  capital  or  income  of  their  own,  would  in  a  month 
be  dead  from  sheer  starvation  were  they  exclusively 
dependent  upon  the  money  earned  by  their  own  work; 
and  (2)  those  who  by  their  utmost  exertions  are  unable 
to  attain  the  regulation  allowance  of  food  which  the  law 
prescribes  as  indispensable  even  for  the  worst  criminals 
in  our  jails. 

I  sorrowfully  admit  that  it  would  be  Utopian  in  our 
present  social  arrangements  to  dream  of  attaining  for 
every  honest  Englishman  a  jail  standard  of  all  the  nec- 
essaries of  life.  Sometime,  perhaps,  we  may  venture  to 
hope  th^t  every  honest  worker  on  English  soil  will 
always  be  as  warmly  clad,  as  healthily  housed,  and  as  reg- 
ularly fed  as  our  criminal  convicts — but  that  is  not  yet. 

Neither  is  it  possible  to  hope  for  many  years  to  come 
that  human  beings  generally  will  be  as  well  cared  for 
as  horses.  Mr.  Carlyle  long  ago  remarked  that  the  four- 
footed  worker  has  already  got  all  that  this  two-handed 
one   is   clamoring    for:    "There  are  not  many  horses    in 


34  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Englana,  able  and  willing  to  work,  which  have  not  due 
food  and  lodging  and  go  about  sleek-coated,  satisfied  in 
heart."  You  say  it  is  impossible;  but,  said  Carlyle, 
"The  human  brain,  looking  at  these  sleek  English  horses, 
refuses  to  believe  in  such  impossibility  for  English  men." 
Nevertheless,  forty  years  have  passed  since  Carlyle  said 
that,  and  we  seem  to  be  no  nearer  the  attainment  of  the 
four-footed  standard  for  the  two-handed  worker.  "Per- 
haps it  might  be  nearer  realization,"  growls  the  cynic, 
"if  we  could  only  produce  men  according  to  demand,  as 
we  do  horses,  and  promptly  send  them  to  the  slaughter 
house  when  past  their  prime;"  which  of  course  is  not 
to  be  thought  of. 

What  then  is  the  standard  toward  which  we  may  venture 
to  aim  with  some  prospect  of  realization  in  our  time.-*  It 
is  a  very  humble  one,  but  if  realized  it  would  solve  the 
worst  problems  of  modern  Society. 

It  is  the  standard  of  the  London  Cab  Horse. 

When  in  the  streets  of  London  a  Cab  Horse,  weary  or 
careless  or  stupid,  trips  and  falls  and  lies  stretched 
out  in  the  midst  of  the  traffic,  there  is  no  question  of 
debating  how  he  came  to  stumble  before  we  try  to  get 
him  on  his  legs  again.  The  Cab  Horse  is  a  very 
real  illustration  of  poor  broken-down  humanity;  he 
usually  falls  down  because  of  overwork  and  under- 
feeding. If  you  put  him  on  his  feet  without  altering 
his  conditions,  it  would  only  be  to  give  him  another 
dose  of  agony;  but  first  of  all  you'll  have  to  .pick  him 
up  again.  It  may  have  been  through  overwork  or  under- 
feeding, or  it  may  have  been  all  his  own  fault  that  he 
has  broken  his  knees  and  smashed  the  shafts,  but  that 
does  not  matter.  If  not  for  his  own  sake,  then  merely 
in  order  to  prevent  an  obstruction  of  the  traffic,  all 
attention  is  concentrated  upon  the  question  of  how  we  are 
to  get  him  on  his  legs  again.     The  load  is  taken  off;  the 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  25 

harness  is  unbuckled,  or,  if  need  be,  cut,  and  everything 
is  done  to  help  him  up.  Then  he  is  put  in  the  shafts 
again  and  once  more  restored  to  his  regular  round  of 
work.  That  is  the  first  point.  The  second  is  that  every 
Cab  Horse  in  London  has  three  things:  a  shelter  for  the 
night,  food  for  its  stomach,  and  work  allotted  to  it  by 
which  it  can  earn  its   corn. 

These  are  the  two  points  of  the  Cab  Horse's  Charter. 
When  he  is  down  he  is  helped  up,  and  while  he  lives 
he  has  food,  shelter,  and  work.  That,  although  a  humble 
standard,  is  at  present  absolutely  unattainable  by  mill- 
ions— literally  by  millions — of  our  fellow-men  and 
women  in  this  country.  Can  the  Cab  Horse  Charter  be 
gained  for  human  beings?  I  answer,  yes.  The  Cab  Horse 
standard  can  be  attained  on  the  Cab  Horse  terms.  If 
you  get  your  fallen  fellow  on  his  feet  again.  Docility  and 
Discipline  will  enable  you  to  reach  the  Cab  Horse  ideal, 
otherwise  it  will  remain  unattainable.  But  docility  sel- 
dom fails  where  discipline  is  intelligently  maintained. 
Intelligence  is  more  frequently  lacking  to  direct,  than 
obedience  to  follow  direction.  At  any»rate  it  is  not  for 
those  who  possess  the  intelligence  to  despair  of  obedi- 
ence, until  they  have  done  their  part.  Some,  no  doubt, 
like  the  bucking  horse  that  will  never  be  broken  in,  will 
always  refuse  to  submit  to  any  guidance  but  their  own 
lawless  will.  They  will  remain  either  the  Ishmaels  or 
the  Sloths  of  Society.  But  man  is  naturally  neither  an 
Ishmael  nor  a  Sloth. 

The  first  question,  then,  which  confronts  us  is,  what 
are  the  dimensions  of  the  Evil?  How  many  of  our  fel- 
low-men dwell  in  this  Darkest  England?  How  can  we 
take  the  census  of  those  who  have  fallen  below  the  Cab 
Horse  standard  to  which  it  is  our  aim  to  elevate  the 
most  wretched  of  our  countrymen? 

The  moment  you  attempt  to  answer  this  question,  you 


26  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

are  confronted  by  the  fact  that  the  social  problem  has 
scarcely  been  studied  at  all  scientifically.  GotoMudie's 
and  ask  for  all  the  books  that  have  been  written  on  the 
subject,  and  you  will  be  surprised  to  find  how  few  there 
are.  There  are  probably  more  scientific  books  treating 
of  diabetes  or  of  gout  than  there  are  dealing  with  the 
great  social  malady  which  eats  out  the  vitals  of  such 
numbers  of  our  people.  Of  late  there  has  been  a  change 
for  the  better.  The  Report  of  the  Royal  Commission  on 
the  Housing  of  the  Poor,  and  the  Report  of  the  Com- 
mittee of  the  House  of  Lords  on  Sweating,  represent 
an  attempt  at  least  to  ascertain  the  facts  which  bear 
upon  the  Condition  of  the  People  question.  But,  after 
all,  more  minute,  patient,  intelligent  observation  has 
been  devoted  to  the  study  of  Earthworms  than  to  the 
evolution,  or  rather  the  degradation,  of  the  Sunken  Sec- 
tion of  our  people.  Here  and  there  in  the  immense  field 
individual  workers  make  notes  and  occasionally  emit  a 
wail  of  despair,  but  where  is  there  any  attempt  even  so 
much  as  to  take  the  first  preliminary  step  of  counting 
those  who  have  gone  under? 

One  book  there  is,  and,  so  far  as  I  know  at  present, 
only  one,  which  even  attempts  to  enumerate  the  desti- 
tute. In  his  "Life  and  Labor  in  the  East  of  London," 
Mr.  Charles  Booth  attempts  to  form  some  kind  of  an 
idea  as  to  the  numbers  of  those  with  whom  we  have  to 
deal.  With  a  large  staff  of  assistants,  and  provided 
with  all  the  facts  in  possession  of  the  School  Board 
Visitors,  Mr.  Booth  took  an  industrial  census  of  East 
London.  This  district,  which  comprises  Tower  Ham- 
lets, Shoreditch,  Bethnal  Green,  and  Hackney,  contains  a 
population  of  908,000;  that  is  to  say,  less  than  one-fourth 
of  the  population  of  London. 

How  do  his  statistics  work  out?     H   we   estimate    the 
number  of    the  poorest    class  in  the    rest    of  London    as 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  37 

being  twice  as  numerous  as  those  in  the  Eastern  District, 
instead  of  being  thrice  as  numerous  as  they  would  be  if 
they  were  calculated  according  to  the  population  in, the 
same  proportion,   the  following  is  the  result: 

Estimate 
East  London.  for  rest  of  Total. 

Paupers:  London. 

Inmates  of  Workhouses,  Asylums, 

and  Hospitals 17,000  34.000  51.000 

Homeless: 

Loafers,  Casuals,  and  some  Crim- 
inals   11,000  22,000  33,000 

Starving: 

Casual  earnings  between  iSs.  per 

week  and  chronic  want 100,000  200,000  300,000 

The  Very  Poor: 

Intermittent  earnings  iSs.  to  21s. 

per  week 74,000  148,000  222,000 

Small  regular  earnings  i8s.  to  21s. 
per  week 129,000  258,000  387,000 

331,000  662,000  993,000 

Regular  wages,  artisans,  etc.,  22s. 

to  30s.  per  week 377,000 

Higher  class  labor,  30s.  to  50s.  per 

week 121,000 

Lower  middle  class,  shopkeepers, 

clerks,  etc 34.000 

Upper     middle      class     (servant 

keepers) 45,000 

908,000 

It  may  be  admitted  that  East  London  affords  an  excep 
tionally  bad  district  from  which  to  generalize  for  the 
rest  of  the  country.  Wages  are  higher  in  London  than 
elsewhere,  but  so  is  rent,  and  the  number  of  the  home- 
less and  starving  is  greater  in  the  human  warren  at  the 
East  End.  There  are  31  millions  of  people  in  Great 
Britain,  exclusive  of  Ireland.  If  destitution  existed 
ever3'where  in  East  London  proportions,  there  would  be 
31  times  as  many  homeless  and  starving  people  as  there 
are  in  the  district  round  Bethnal  Green. 

But  let  us  suppose  that  the  East  London  rate  is 
double  the  average  for  the  rest  of  the  country.  That 
would  bring  out  the  following  figures: 


28  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Houseless:  East  London.  United  Kingdom. 

Loafers,  Casuals,  and  some  Criminals        11,000  165,500 

Starving: 

Casual  earnings  or  chronic  want 100,000  1,550,000 

Total  Houseless  and  Starving 111,000  1,715,500 

In  Workhouses,  Asylums,  etc 17,000  190,000 

128,000  1,905,500 

Of  those  returned  as  homeless  and  starving,  870,000 
were  in  receipt  of  outdoor  relief. 

To  these  must  be  added  the  inmates  of  our  prisons. 
In  1889,  174,779  persons  were  received  in  the  prisons,  but 
the  average  number  in  prison  at  any  one  time  did  not 
exceed  60,000.  The  figures,  as  given  in  the  Prison  Re- 
turns, are  as  follows: 

In  Convict  Prisons ii,66o 

In  Local  Prisons , 20,883 

In  Reformatories 1,270 

In  Industrial  Schools 21,413 

Criminal  Lunatics 910 

56,136 

Add  to  this  the  number  of  indoor  paupers  and  lunatics 
(excluding  criminals),  78,966,  and  we  have  an  army  of 
nearly  two  millions  belonging  to  the  submerged  classes. 
To  this  there  must  be  added,  at  the  very  least,  another 
million,  representing  those  dependent  upon  the  criminal, 
lunatic,  and  other  classes,  not  enumerated  here,  and  the 
more  or  less  helpless  of  the  class  immediately  above 
the  houseless  and  starving.  This  brings  my  total  to 
three  millions,  or,  to  put  it  roughly,  to  one-tenth  of  the 
population.  According  to  Lord  Brabazon  and  Mr. 
Samuel  Smith,  "between  two  and  three  millions  of  our 
population  are  always  pauperized  and  degraded."  Mr. 
Chamberlain  says  there  is  a  "population  equal  to  that 
of  the  metropolis" — that  is,  between  four  and  five  mill- 
ions—  "which  has  remained  constantly  in  a  state  of  abject 
destitution  and  misery."  Mr.  Giffen  is  more  moderate. 
The  submerged  class,  according  to  him,  comprises  one 
in  five  of  manual  laborers,  six  in  one  hundred  of  the 
population.      Mr.  Giffen  does  not  add  the  third   million 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  29 

which  is  living  on  the  border  line.  Between  Mr.  Cham- 
berlain's four  millions  and  a  half  and  Mr.  Giffen's 
1,800,000,  I  am  content  to  take  three  millions  as  repre- 
senting the  total  strength  of  the  destitute  army. 

Darkest  England,  then,  may  be  said  to  have  a  popula- 
tion about  equal  to  that  of  Scotland.  Three  million 
men,  v^omen,  and  children,  a  vast  despairing  multitude 
in  a  condition  nominally  free,  but  really  enslaved — 
these  it  is  whom  we  have  to  save. 

It  is  a  large  order.  England  emancipated  her  negroes 
sixty  years  ago,  at  a  cost  of  ;^40,ooo,ooo,  and  has  never 
ceased  boasting  about  it  since.  But  at  our  own  doors, 
from  "Plymouth  to  Peterhead,"  stretches  this  waste 
Continent  of  humanity — three  million  human  beings  who 
are  enslaved — some  of  them  to  taskmasters  as  merciless 
as  any  West  Indian  overseer,  all  of  them  to  destitution 
and  despair.  Is  anything  to  be  done  with  them?  Can 
anything  be  done  for  them?  Or  is  this  million-headed 
mass  to  be  regarded  as  offering  a  problem  as  insoluble 
as  that  of  the  London  sewage,  which,  feculent  and  fester- 
ing, swings  heavily  up  and  down  the  basin  of  the  Thames 
with  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide? 

This  Submerged  Tenth — is  it,  then,  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  nine-tenths  in  the  midst  of  whom  they  live,  and 
around  whose  homes  they  rot  and  die?  No  doubt,  in  every 
large  mass  of  human  beings  there  will  be  some  incurably 
diseased  in  morals  and  in  body,  some  for  whom  nothing 
can  be  done,  some  of  whom  even  the  optimist  must  de- 
spair, and  for  whom  he  can  prescribe  nothing  but  the 
beneficently  stern  restraints  of  an  asylum  or  a   jail. 

But  is  not  one  in  ten  a  proportion  scandalously  high? 
The  Israelites  of  old  set  apart  one  tribe  in  twelve  to  min- 
ister to  the  Lord  in  the  service  of  the  Temple;  but  must 
we  doom  one  in  ten  of  "God's  Englishmen"  to  the  service 
of  the  great  Twin  Devils — Destitution  and  Despair? 


CHAPTER  III 


THE    HOMELESS 


Darkest  England  may  be  described  as  consisting  broadly 
of  three  circles,  one  within  the  other.  The  outer  and 
widest  circle  is  inhabited  by  the  starving  and  the  home- 
less, but  honest,  Poor;  the  second  by  those  who  live  by 
Vice;  and  the  third  and  innermost  region  at  the  center 
is  peopled  by  those  who  exist  by  Crime.  The  whole  of 
the  three  circles  is  sodden  with  Drink.  Darkest  England 
has  many  more  public  houses  than  the  Forest  of  the  Aru- 
wimi  has  rivers,  of  which  Mr.  Stanley  sometimes  had  to 
cross  three  in  half  an  hour.  The  borders  of  this  great 
lost  land  are  not  sharply  defined.  They  are  continually 
expanding  or  contracting.  Whenever  there  is  a  period 
of  depression  in  trade,  they  stretch;  when  prosperity 
returns,  they  contract.  So  far  as  individuals  are  con- 
cerned, there  are  none  among  the  hundreds  of  thousands 
who  live  upon  the  outskirts  of  the  dark  forest  who  can 
truly  say  that  they  or  their  children  are  secure  from 
being  hopelessly  entangled  in  its  labyrinth.  The  death 
of  the  bread-winner,  a  long  illness,  a  failure  in  the  City, 
or  any  one  of  a  thousand  other  causes  which  might  be 
named,  will  bring  within  the  first  circle  those  who  at 
present  imagine  themselves  free  from  all  danger  of 
actual  want.  The  death-rate  in  Darkest  England  is  high. 
Death  is  the  great  jail-deliverer  of  the  captives.  But 
the  dead  are  hardly  in  the  grave  before  their  places  are 
taken  by  others.     Some  escape,  but   the   majority,    their 

30 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  31 

health  sapped  by  their  surroundings,  become  weaker  and 
weaker,  until  at  last  they  fall  by  the  way,  perishing 
without  hope  at  the  very  doors  of  the  palatial  mansions 
which,  may  be,  some  of  them  helped  to  build. 

Some  seven  years  ago  a  great  outcry  was  made  con- 
cerning the  Housing  of  the  Poor.  Much  was  said,  and 
rightly  said — it  could  not  be  said  too  strongly — concern- 
ing the  disease-breeding,  manhood-destroying  character 
of  the  tenements  in  which  the  poor  herd  in  our  large 
cities.  But  there  is  a  depth  below  that  of  the  dweller 
in  the  slums.  It  is  that  of  the  dweller  in  the  streets, 
who  has  not  even  a  lair  in  the  slums  which  he  can  call 
his  own.  The  houseless  Out-of-Work  is  in  one  respect 
at  least  like  Him  of  whom  it  was  said,  "Foxes  have  holes, 
and  birds  of  the  air  have  nests,  but  the  Son  of  Man  hath 
not  where  to  lay  His  head." 

The  existence  of  these  unfortunates  was  somewhat 
rudely  forced  upon  the  attention  of  Society  in  1887,  when 
Trafalgar  Square  became  the  camping  ground  of  the 
Homeless  Outcasts  of  London.  Our  Shelters  have  done 
something,  but  not  enough  to  provide  for  the  outcasts, 
who  this  night  and  every  night  are  walking  about  the 
streets,  not  knowing  where  they  can  find  a  spot  on  which 
to  rest  their  weary  frames. 

Here  is  the  return  of  one  of  my  Officers  who  was  told 
off  this  summer  to  report  upon  the  actual  condition  of 
the  Homeless  who  have  no  roof  to  shelter  them  in  all 
London: 

There  are  still  a  large  number  of  Londoners  and  a  con- 
siderable percentage  of  wanderers  from  the  country  in 
search  of  work,  who  find  themselves  at  nightfall  desti- 
tute. These  now  betake  themselves  to  the  seats  under 
the  plane  trees  on  the  Embankment.  Formerly  they  en- 
deavored to  occupy  all  the  seats,  but  the  lynx-eyed  Met- 
ropolitan Police  declined  to  allow  any  such  proceedings, 
^nd  the  dossers,  knowing  the  invariable  kindness  of  the 


32  iN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

City  Police,  made  tracks  for  that  portion  of  ihe  Embank- 
ment which,  lying  east  of  the  Temple,  comes  under  the 
control  of  the  Civic  Fathers.  Here,  between  the  Tem- 
ple and  Blackfriars,  I  found  the  poor  wretches  by  the 
score;  almost  every  seat  contained  its  full  complement 
of  six — some  men,  some  women — all  reclining  in  various 
postures  and  nearly  all  fast  asleep.  Just  as  Big  Ben 
strikes  two,  the  moon,  flashing  across  the  Thames  and 
lighting  up  the  stone  work  of  the  Embankment,  brings 
into  relief  a  pitiable  spectacle.  Here  on  the  stone  abut- 
ments, which  afford  a  slight  protection  from  the  biting 
wind,  are  scores  of  men  Jying  side  by  side,  huddled 
together  for  warmth,  and,  of  course,  without  any  other 
covering  than  their  ordinary  clothing,  which  is  scanty 
enough  at  the  best.  Some  have  laid  down  a  few  pieces 
of  waste  paper,  by  way  of  taking  the  chill  off  the  stones, 
but  the  majority  are  too  tired  even  for  that,  and  the 
nifghtly  toilet  of  most  consists  of  first  removing  the 
hat,  swathing  the  head  in  whatever  old  rag  may  being 
doing  duty  as  a  handkerchief,  and  then  replacing  the 
hat. 

The  intelligent-looking  elderly  man,  who  was  just  fixing 
himself  up  on  a  seat,  informed  me  that  he  frequently 
made  that  his  night's  abode.  "You  see,"  quoth  he, 
"there's  nowhere  else  so  comfortable.  I  was  here  last 
night,  and  Monday  and  Tuesday  as  well;  that's  four 
nights  this  week.  I  had  no  money  for  lodgings,  couldn't 
earn  any,  try  as  I  might.  I've  had  one  bit  of  bread  to- 
day, nothing  else  whatever,  and  I've  earned  nothing  to- 
day or  3^esterday;  I  had  threepence  the  day  before.  Gets 
my  living  by  carrying  parcels  or  minding  horses,  or  odd 
jobs  of  that  sort.  You  see,  I  haven't  got  my  health, 
that's  where  it  is.  I  used  to  work  for  the  London  Gen- 
eral Omnibus  Company  and  after  that  for  the  Road  Car 
Company,  but  I  had  to  go  to  the  infirmary  with  bronchitis, 
and  couldn't  get  work  after  that.  What's  the  good  of  a 
man  what's  got  bronchitis  and  just  left  the  infirmary? 
Who'll  engage  him,  I'd  like  to  know?  Besides,  it 
makes  me  short  of  breath  at  times,  and  I  can't  do 
much.  I'm  a  widower;  wife  died  long  ago.  I  have 
one  boy  abroad,  a  sailor,  but  'he's  only  lately  started 
and    can't   help    me.     Yes!     it's  very  fair  out    here    of 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  33 

nights,  seats  rather  hard,  but  a  bit  of  waste  paper  makes 
it  a  lot  softer.  We  have  women  sleep  here  often,  and 
children,  too.  They're  very  well  conducted,  and  there's 
seldom  many  rows  here,  you  see,  because  everybody's 
tired  out.      We're  too  sleepy  to  make  a  row." 

Another  party,  a  tall,  dull,  helpless-looking  individ- 
ual, had  walked  up  from  the  country;  would  prefer  not 
to  mention  the  place.  He  had  hoped  to  have  obtained  a 
hospital  letter  at  the  Mansion  House  so  as  to  obtain  a 
truss  for  a  bad  rupture,  but  failing,  had  tried  various 
other  places,  also  in  vain,  winding  up,  minus  money  or 
food,  on  the  Embankment. 

In  addition  to  these  sleepers,  a  considerable  number 
walk  about  the  streets  up  till  the  early  hours  of  the  morn- 
ing to  hunt  up  some  job  which  will  bring  a  copper  into 
the  empty  exchequer,  and  save  them  from  actual  starva- 
tion. I  had  some  conversation  with  one  such,  a  stal- 
wart youth  lately  discharged  from  the  militia,  and  un- 
able to  get  work. 

"You  see,"  said  he,  pitifully,  "I  don't  know  m}^  way 
about  like  most  of  the  London  fellows;  I'm  so  green, 
and  don't  know  how  to  pick  up  jobs  like  they  do.  I've 
been  walking  the  streets  almost  day  and  night  these 
two  weeks  and  can't  get  work.  I've  got  the  strength, 
though  I  shan't  have  it  long  at  this  rate.  I  only  want  a 
job.  This  is  the  third  night  running  that  I've  walked 
the  streets  all  night;  the  only  money  I  get  is  by  mind- 
ing blacking-boys'  boxes  while  they  go  into  Lockhart's 
for  their  dinner.  I  get  a  penny  yesterday  at  it,  and 
twopence  for  carrying  a  parcel,  and  to-day  I've  had  a 
penny.  Bought  a  ha'porth  of  bread  and  a  ha'penny  mug 
of  tea." 

Poor  lad!  probably  he  would  soon  get  into  thieves' 
company,  and  sink  into  the  depths,  for  there  is  no  other 
means  of  living  for  many  like  him;  it  is  starve  or  steal, 
even  for  the  young.  There  are  gangs  of  lad  thieves  in 
the  low  Whitechapel  lodging-houses,  varying  in  age 
from  thirteen  to  fifteen,  who  live  by  thieving  eatables 
and  other  easily  obtained  goods  from  shop  fronts. 

In  addition  to  the  Embankment,  al fresco  lodgings  are 
found  in  the  seats  outside  Spitalfields  Church,  and  many 
homeless  wanderers  have  their  own  little  nooks  and  cor- 

3 


34  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

ners  of  resort  in  many  sheltered  yards,  vans,  etc.,  all 
over  London.  Two  poor  women  I  observed  making  their 
home  in  a  shop  door-way  in  Liverpool  Street.  Thus 
they  manage  in  the  summer;  what  it's  like  in  winter-time 
is  terrible  to  think  of.  In  many  cases  it  means  the  pau- 
per's grave,  as  in  the  case  of  a  young  woman  who  was 
wont  to  sleep  in  a  van  in  Bedfordbury.  Some  men  who 
were  aware  of  her  practice  surprised  her  by  dashing  a 
bucket  of  water  on  her.  The  blow  :o  her  weak  system 
caused  illness,  and  the  inevitable  sequel — a  coroner's 
jury  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  water  only  hastened 
her  death,  which  was  due,  in  plain  English,  to  starva- 
tion. 

The  following  are  some  statements  taken  down  by  the 
same  Officer  from  twelve  men  whom  he  found  sleeping  on  the 
Embankment  on  the  nights  of  June  13th  and   14th,   i8go: 

No.  I.  "I've  slept  here  two  nights;  I'm  a  confec- 
tioner by  trade;  I  come  from  Dartford.  I  got  turned 
off  because  I'm  getting  elderly.  They  can  get  young 
men  cheaper,  and  I  have  the  rheumatism  so  bad.  I've 
earned  nothing  these  two  days;  I  thought  I  could  get  a 
job  at  Woolwich,  so  I  walked  there,  but  could  get  noth- 
ing. I  found  a  bit  of  bread  in  the  road  v/rapped  up  in 
a  bit  of  newspaper;  that  did  me  for  yesterday.  I  had  a 
bit  of  bread  and  butter  to-day.  I'm  fifty-four  years  old. 
When  it's  wet  we  stand  about  all  night  under  the  arches. " 

No.  2.  "Been  sleeping  out  three  weeks  all  but  one 
night;  do  odd  jobs,  mind  horses,  and  that  sort  of  thing. 
Earned  nothing  to-day,  or  shouldn't  be  here.  Have  had 
a  pen'orth  of  bread  to-day;  that's  all.  Yesterday  had 
some  pieces  given  to  me  at  a  cook-shop.  Two  days  last 
week  had  nothing  at  all  from  morning  till  night.  By 
trade  I'm  a  feather-bed  dresser,  but  it's  gone  out  of 
fashion,  and  besides  that,  I've  a  cataract  in  one  eye, 
and  have  lost  the  sight  of  it  completely.  I'm  a  widower, 
have  one  child,  a  soldier,  at  Dover.  My  last  regular 
work  was  eight  months  ago,  but  the  firm  broke.  Been 
doing  odd  jobs  since." 

No.  3.  "I'm  a  tailor;  have  slept  here  four  nights 
running.     Can't    get    work.     Been  out   of    a    job    three 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  35 

weeks.  If  I  can  muster  cash  I  sleep  at  a  lodging-house 
in  Vere  Street,  Clare  Market.  It  was  very  wet  last 
night.  I  left  these  seats  and  went  to  Covent  Garden 
Market  and  slept  under  cover.  There  were  about  thirty 
of  us.  The  police  moved  us  on,  but  we  went  back  as 
soon  as  they  had  gone.  I've  had  a  pen'orth  of  bread 
and  pen'orth  of  soup  during  the  last  two  days — often 
goes  without  altogether.  There  are  women  sleep  out 
here.  They  are  decent  people,  mostly  charwomen  and 
such  like  who  can't  get  work." 

No.  4.  Elderly  man;  trembles  visibly  with  excite- 
ment at  mention  of  work;  produces  a  card  carefully 
wrapped  in  old  newspaper,  to  the  effect  that  Mr.  J.  R. 
is  a  member  of  the  Trade  Protection  League.  He  is  a 
waterside  laborer;  last  job  at  that  was  a  fortnight  since. 
Has  earned  nothing  for  five  days.  Had  a  bit  of  bread 
this  morning,  but  not  a  scrap  since.  Had  a  cup  of  tea 
and  two  slices  of  bread  yesterday,  and  the  same  the  day 
before;  the  deputy  at  a  lodging-house  gave  it  to  him. 
He  is  fifty  years  old,  and  is  still  damp  from  sleeping 
out  in  the  wet  last  night. 

No.  5.  Sawyer  by  trade,  machinery  cut  him  out. 
Had  a  job,  haymaking  near  Uxbridge.  Had  been  on 
same  job  lately  for  a  month;  got  2s.  6d.  a  day.  (Prob- 
ably spent  it  in  drink,  seems  a  very  doubtful  worker.) 
Has  been  odd  jobbing  a  long  time;  earned  2d.  to-day, 
bought  a  pen'orth  of  tea  and  ditto  of  sugar  (produces 
same  from  pocket),  but  can't  get  any  place  to  make  the 
tea;  was  hoping  to  get  to  a  lodging-house  where  he  could 
borrow  a  teapot,  but  had  no  money.  Earned  nothing 
yesterday,  slept  at  a  casual  ward;  very  poor  place,  get 
insufficient  food,  considering  the  labor.  Six  ounces  of 
bread  and  a  pint  of  skilly  for  breakfast,  one  ounce  of 
cheese  and  six  or  seven  ounces  of  bread  for  dinner  (bread 
cut  by  guess).  Tea  same  as  breakfast,  no  supper.  For 
this  you  have  to  break  10  cwt.  of  stones,  or  pick  4  lbs. 
of  oakum. 

No.  6.  Had  slept  out  four  nights  running.  Was  a  dis- 
tiller by  trade;  been  out  four  months;  unwilling  to 
enter  into  details  of  leaving,  but  it  was  his  own  fault. 
(Very  likely;    a   hea'^7,   thick,   stubborn,   and   senseless- 


36  iiN  JJAKKEST  ENGLAND 

looking  fellow,  six  feet  high,  thick  neck,  strong  limbs, 
evidently  destitute  of  ability.)  Does  odd  jobs;  earned 
3d.  for  minding  a  horse,  bought  a  cup  of  coffee  and 
pen'orthof  bread  and  butter.  Has  no  money  now.  Slept 
under  Waterloo  Bridge  last  night. 

No.  7.  Good-natured  looking  man;  one  who  would 
sutler  and  say  nothing;  clothes  shining  with  age,  grease, 
and  dirt;  they  hang  on  his  joints  as  on  pegs;  awful 
rags!  I  saw  him  endeavoring  to  walk.  He  lifted  his 
feet  very  slowl}^  and  put  them  down  carefully  in  evident 
pain.  His  legs  are  bad;  been  in  infirmary  several  times 
with  them.  His  uncle  and  grandfather  were  clergymen; 
both  dead  now.  He  was  once  in  a  good  position  in  a 
money  office,  and  afterwards  in  the  London  and  County 
Bank  for  nine  years.  Then  he  went  with  an  auctioneer 
who  broke,  and  he  was  left  ill,  old,  and  without  any 
trade.  "A  clerk's  place,"  says  he,  "is  never  worth  hav- 
ing, because  there  are  so  many  of  them,  and  once  out  you 
can  only  get  another  place  with  difficulty.  I  have  a 
brother-in-law  on  the  Stock  Exchange,  but  he  won't  own 
me.     Look  at  my  clothes!     Is  it  likely?" 

No.  8.  Slept  here  four  nights  running.  Is  a  builder's 
laborer  by  trade — that  is,  a  handy  man.  Had  a  settled 
job  for  a  few  weeks,  which  expired  three  weeks  since. 
Has  earned  nothing  for  nine  days.  Then  helped  wash 
down  a  S'hop  front  and  got  2s.  6d.  for  it.  Does  anything 
he  can  get.  Is  46  years  old.  Earns  about  2d.  or  3d.  a 
day  at  horse-minding.  A  cup  of  tea  and  a  bit  of  bread 
yesterday,  and  same  to-day,   is  all  he  has  had. 

No.  9.  A  plumber's  laborer.  (All  these  men  who  are 
somebody's  "laborers"  are  poor  samples  of  humanit}^, 
evidently  lacking  in  grit,  and  destitute  of  ability  to  do 
any  work  which  would  mean  decent  wages.  Judging 
from  appearances,  they  will  do  nothing  well.  They  are 
a  kind  of  automaton,  with  the  machinery  rusty;  slow, 
dull,  and  incapable.  The  man  of  ordinary  intelligence 
leaves  them  in  the  rear.  They  could  doubtless  earn 
more  even  at  odd  jobs,  but  lack  the  energy.  Of  course, 
this  means  little  food,  exposure  to  weather,  and  in- 
creased incapability  day  by  day-  "From  Viim  that  hath 
not,"    etc.)     Out    of  work    through   slackness,  does  odd 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  37 

jobs;  slept  here  three  nights  running.  Is  a  dock  laborer 
when  he  can  get  work.  Has  6d.  an  hour;  works  so  many 
hours,  according  as  he  is  wanted.  Gets  2s.,  3s.,  or  4s. 
6d.  a  day.  Has  to  work  very  hard  for  it.  Casual  ward 
life  is  also  very  hard,  he  says,  for  those  who  are  not  used 
to  it,  and  there  is  not  enough  to  eat.  Has  had  to-day  a 
pen'orth  of  bread,  for  minding  a  cab.  Yesterday  he 
spent  3>^d.  on  a  breakfast,  and  that  lasted  him  all  day. 
Age  25. 

No.  10.  Been  out  of  work  a  month.  Carman  by 
trade.  Arm  withered,  and  cannot  do  w^ork  properly.  Has 
slept  here  all  the  week ;  got  an  awful  cold  through  the  wet. 
Lives  at  odd  jobs  (they  all  do).  Got  sixpence  yesterday 
for  minding  a  cab  and  carrying  a  couple  of  parcels. 
Earned  nothing  to-day,  but  had  one  good  meal;  a  lady 
gave  it  him.  Has  been  walking  about  all  day  looking 
for  work,  and  is  tired  out. 

No.  II.  Youth,  aged  16.  Sad  case;  Londoner.  Works 
at  odd  jobs  and  matches  selling.  Has  taken  3d.  to-day — 
/.  <;'.,  net  profit  i^d.  Has  five  boxes  still.  Has  slept 
here  every  night  for  a  month.  Before  that  slept  in  Cov- 
ent  Garden  Market  or  on  door-steps.  Been  sleeping  out 
six  months,  since  he  left  Feltham  Industrial  School. 
Was  sent  there  for  playing  truant.  Has  had  one  bit  of 
bread  to-day;  yesterday  had  only  some  gooseberries  and 
cherries — /.  e.,  bad  ones  that  had  been  throw^n  away. 
Mother  is  alive.  She  "chucked  him  out"  when  he  re- 
turned home  on  leaving  Feltham  because  he  couldn't 
fnid  her  money  for  drink. 

No.  12.  Old  man,  age  67.  Seems  to  take  rather  a 
humorous  viev/  of  the  position.  Kind  of  Mark  Tapley. 
Says  he  can't  say  he  does  like  it,  but  then  he  must  like 
it!  Ha,  ha!  Is  a  slater  by  trade.  Been  out  of  work 
some  time;  younger  men  naturally  get  the  work.  Gets 
a  bit  of  bricklaying  sometimes;  can  turn  his  hand  to  any- 
thing. Goes  miles  and  gets  nothing.  Earned  one  and 
twopence  this  week  at  holding  horses.  Finds  it  hard, 
certainly.  Used  to  care  once,  and  get  down-hearted,  but 
that's  no  good;  don't  trouble  now.  Had  a  bit  of  bread 
and  butter  and  cup  of  coffee  to-day.  Health  is  awful  bad; 
not  half  the  size  he  was;    exposure  and  want  of  food  is  the 


38  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

cause;  got  wet  last  night,  and  is  very  stiff  in  conse- 
quence. Has  been  walking  about  since  it  was  light,  that 
is  3  A.  M.  Was  so  cold  and  wet  and  weak,  scarcely  knew 
what  to  do.  Walked  to  Hyde  Park,  and  got  a  little 
sleep  there  on  a  dry  seat  as  soon  as  the  park  opened. 

These  are  fairly  typical  cases  of  the  men  who  are  now 
wandering  homeless  through  the  streets.  That  is  the 
way  in  which  the  nomads  of  civilization  are  constantly 
being  recruited  from  above. 

Such  are  the  stories  gathered  at  random  one  Midsum- 
mer night  this  year  under  the  shade  of  the  plane  trees 
of  the  Embankment.  A  month  later,  when  one  of  my 
staff  took  the  census  of  the  sleepers  out  of  doors  along 
the  line  of  the  Thames  from  Blackfriars  to  Westmin- 
ster, he  found  three  hundred  and  sixty-eight  persons 
sleeping  in  the  open  air.  Of  these,  two  hundred  and 
seventy  were  on  the  Embankment  proper,  and  ninety- 
eight  in  and  about  Covent  Garden  Market,  while  the 
recesses  of  Waterloo  and  Blackfriars  Bridges  were  full 
of  human  misery. 

This,  be  it  remembered,  was  not  during  a  season  of 
bad  trade.  The  revival  of  business  has  been  attested  on 
all  hands,  notably  by  the  barometer  of  strong  drink, 
England  is  prosperous  enough  to  drink  rum  in  quantities 
which  appall  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  but  she  is 
not  prosperous  enough  to  provide  other  shelter  than  the 
midnight  sky  for  these  poor  outcasts  on  the  Embankment. 

To  very  many  even  of  those  who  live  in  London  it 
may  be  news  that  there  are  so  many  hundreds  who  sleep 
out  of>  d.oors  every  night.  There  are  comparatively  few 
people  stirring  after  midnight,  and  when  we  are  snugly 
tucked  into  our  own  beds  we  are  apt  to  forget  the  multi- 
tude outside  in  the  rain  and  the  storm  who  are  shivering 
the  long  hours  through  on  the  hard  stone  seats  in  the 
open  or  upider  the  arches  of    the  railway.     Thes§    home- 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  39 

less,  hungry  people  are,  however,  there,  but  being  broken- 
spirited  folk  for  the  most  part,  they  seldom  make  their 
voices  audible  in  the  ears  of  their  neighbors.  Now  and 
again,  however,  a  harsh  cry  from  the  depths  is  heard  for 
a  moment,  jarring  rudely  upon  the  ear,  and  then  all  is 
still.  The  inarticulate  classes  speak  as  seldom  as 
Balaam's  ass.  But  they  sometimes  find  a  voice.  Here  for 
instance  is  one  such  case  which  impressed  me  much,  it 
was  reported  in  one  of  the  Liverpool  papers  some  time 
back.  The  speaker  was  haranguing  a  small  knot  of 
twenty  or  thirty  men. 

"My  lads,"  he  commenced,  with  one  hand  in  the  breast 
of  his  ragged  vest  and  the  other,  as  usual,  plucking 
nervously  at  his  beard,  "this  kind  o'  work  can't  last  for- 
ever." (Deep  and  earnest  exclamations,  "It  can't!  It 
sha'n't!")  "Well,  boys,"  continued  the  speaker,  "some- 
body'11  have  to  find  a  road  out  o'  this.  What  we  want 
is  work,  not  work' us  bounty,  though  the  parish  has  been 
busy  enough  amongst  us  lately,  God  knows!  What  we 
want  is  honest  work.  (Hear,  hear.)  Now,  what  I  pro- 
pose is  that  each  of  you  gets  fifty  mates  to  join  you; 
that'll  make  about  1,200  starving  chaps — "  "And  then?" 
asked  several  very  gaunt  and  hungry-looking  men  excit- 
edly. "Why,  then,"  continued  the  leader.  "Why,  then," 
interrupted  a  cadaverous-looking  man  from  the  farther 
and    darkest  end  of   the  cellar,   "of  course  we'll   make  a 

London  job  of  it,  eh?"     "No,  no,"  hastily  interposed 

my  friend,  and  holding  up  his  hands  deprecatingly, 
"we'll  go  peaceably  about  it,  chaps;  we'll  go  in  a  body 
to  the  Town  Hall,  and  show  our  poverty,  and  ask  for 
work.  We'll  take  the  women  and  children  with  us 
too."  ("Too  ragged!  Too  starved!  They  can't  walk 
it!  ")  "The  women's  rags  is  no  disgrace,  the  staggerin' 
children'll  show  what  we  come  to.  Let's  go  a  thousand 
Strong,  and  ask  for  work  and  bread!  " 


40  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Three  years  ago,  in  London,  there  were  some  such  pro- 
cessions; Church  parades  to  the  Abbey  and  St.  Paul's, 
bivouacs  in  Trafalgar  Square,  etc.  But  Lazarus  showed 
his  rags  and  his  sores  too  conspicuously  for  the  conven- 
ience of  Dives,  and  was  summarily  dealt  with  in  the 
name  of  law  and  order.  But  as  we  have  Lord  Mayor's 
Days,  when  all  the  well-fed  fur-clad  City  Fathers  go  in 
State  Coaches  through  the  town,  why  should  we  not  have 
a  Lazarus  Day,  in  which  the  starving  Out-of-Works,  and 
the  sweated,  half-starved  "In-Works"  of  London  should 
crawl  in  their  tattered  raggedness,  with  their  gaunt, 
hungry  faces,  and  emaciated  wives  and  children,  a  Pro- 
cession of  Despair  through  the  main  thoroughfares,  past 
the  massive  houses  and  princely  palaces  of  luxurious 
London? 

For  these  men  are  gradually,  but  surely,  being  sucked 
down  into  the  quicksand  of  modern  life.  They  stretch 
out  their  grimy  hands  to  us  in  vain  appeal,  not  for  char- 
ity, but  for  work. 

Work,  work!  it  is  always  work  that  they  ask.  The 
Divine  curse  is  to  them  the  most  blessed  of  benedic- 
tions. "In  the  sweat  of  thy  brow  thou  shalt  eat  thy 
bread;  "  but  alas  for  these  forlorn  sons  of  Adam,  they  fail 
to  find  the  bread  to  eat,  for  Society  has  no  work  for  them 
to  do.  They  have  not  even  leave  to  sweat.  As  well  as 
discussing  how  these  poor  wanderers  should  in  the  second 
Adam  "all  be  made  alive,"  ought  we  not  to  put  forth 
some  effort  to  effect  their  restoration  to  their  share  in  the 
heritage  of  labor  which  is  theirs  by  right  of  descent  from 
the  first  Adam? 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    OUT-OF-WORKS 

There  is  hardly  any  more  pathetic  figure  than  that  of 
the  strong,  able  worker  crying  plaintively  in  the  midst  of 
our  palaces  and  churches,  not  for  charity,  but  for  work, 
asking  only  to  be  allowed  the  privilege  of  perpetual 
hard  labor,  that  thereby  he  may  earn  wherewith  to  fill 
his  empty  belly  and  silence  the  cry  of  his  children  for 
food.  Crying  for  it  and  not  getting  it,  seeking  for  labor 
as  lost  treasure  and  finding  it  not,  until  at  last,  all  spirit 
and  vigor  worn  out  in  the  weary  quest,  the  once  willing 
worker  becomes  a  broken-down  drudge,  sodden  with 
wretchedness  and  despairing  of  all  help  in  this  world  or 
in  that  which  is  to  come.  Our  organization  of  industry 
certainly  leaves  much  to  be  desired.  A  problem  which 
even  slave  owners  have  solved  ought  not  to  be  abandoned 
as  insoluble  by  the  Christian  civilization  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century. 

I  have  already  given  a  few  life  stories  taken  down 
from  the  lips  of  those  who  were  found  homeless  on  the 
Embankment  which  suggest  somewhat  of  the  hardships 
and  the  misery  of  the  fruitless  search  for  work.  But 
what  a  volume  of  dull,  squalid  horror — a  horror  of  great 
darkness  gradually  obscuring  all  the  light  of  day  from 
the  life  of  the  sufferer — might  be  written  from  the  simple, 
prosaic  experiences  of  the  ragged  fellows  whom  you  meet 
every  day  in  the  street.  These  men,  whose  labor  is  their 
only  capital,  are  allowed,  nay  compelled,  to  waste  day  after 

41 


43  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

day  by  the  want  of  any  means  of  employment,  and  then 
when  they  have  seen  days  and  weeks  roll  by  during  which 
their  capital  has  been  wasted  by  pounds  and  pounds,  they 
are  lectured  for  not  saving  the  pence.  When  a  rich  man 
cannot  employ  his  capital  he  puts  it  out  at  interest,  but 
the  bank  for  the  labor  capital  of  the  poor  man  has  yet 
to  be  invented.  Yet  it  might  be  worth  while  inventing 
one.  A  man's  labor  is  not  only  his  capital,  but  his  life. 
When  it  passes  it  returns  never  more.  To  utilize  it,  to 
prevent  its  wasteful  squandering,  to  enable  the  poor 
man  to  bank  it  up  for  use  hereafter,  this  surely  is  one 
of  the  most  urgent  tasks  before  civilization. 

Of  all  heart-breaking  toil  the  hunt  for  work  is  surely 
the  worst.  Yet  at  any  moment  let  a  workman  lose  his 
present  situation,  and  he  is  compelled  to  begin  anew 
the  dreary  round  of  fruitless  calls.  Here  is  the  story  of 
one  among  thousands  of  the  nomads,  taken  down  from 
his  own  lips,  of  one  who  was  driven  by  sheer  hunger 
into  crime: 

A  bright  Spring  morning  found  me  landed  from  a 
western  colony.  Fourteen  years  had  passed  since  I  em- 
barked from  the  same  spot.  They  were  fourteen  years, 
as  far  as  results  were  concerned,  of  non^success,  and 
here  I  was  again  in  my  own  land,  a  stranger,  with  a 
new  career  to  carve  for  myself  and  the  battle  of  life  to 
fight  over  again. 

My  first  thought  was  work.  Never  before  had  I  felt 
more  eager  for  a  down-right  good  chance  to  win  my  way 
by  honest  toil;  but  where  was  I  to  find  work?  With  firm 
determination  I  started  in  search.  One  day  passed  with- 
out success,  and  another,  and  another,  but  the  thought 
cheered  me,  "Better  luck  to-morrow."  It  has  been  said, 
"Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast."  In  my  case 
it  was  to  be  severely  tested.  Days  soon  ran  into  weeks, 
and  still  I  was  on  the  trail  patiently  and  hopefully. 
Courtesy  and  politeness  so  often  met  me  in  my  inquiries 
for  employment  that  I  often  wished  they  would  kick  me 
put,  and  so  vary  the  monotony  of  the  sickly  veneer  of 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  43 

consideration  that  so  thinly  overlaid  the  indifference  and 
the  absolute  unconcern  they  had  to  my  needs.  A  few 
cut  up  rough  and  said,  "No;  we  don' t  want  you.  "  "Please 
don't  trouble  us  again  (this  after  the  second  visit). 
We  have  no  vacancy;  and  if  we  had,  we  have  plenty  of 
people  on  hand  to  fill  it." 

Who  can  express  the  feeling  that  comes  over  one  when 
the  fact  begins  to  dawn  that  the  search  for  work  is  a 
failure?  All  my  hopes  and  prospects  seemed  to  have 
turned  out  false.  Helplessness,  I  had  often  heard  of  it, 
had  often  talked  about  it,  thought  I  knew  all  about  it. 
Yes!  in  others,  but  now  I  began  to  understand  it  for 
myself.  Gradually  my  personal  appearance  faded.  My 
once  faultless  linen  became  unkempt  and  unclean. 
Down  further  and  further  went  the  heels  of  my  shoes, 
and  I  drifted  into  that  distressicig  condition,  "shabby 
gentility."  If  the  odds  were  against  me  before,  how 
much  more  so  now,  seeing  that  I  was  too  shabby  even  to 
coQimand  attention,  much  less  a  reply  to  my  inquiry 
for  work. 

Hunger  now  began  to  do  its  work,  and  I  drifted  to  the 
dock  gates,  but  what  chance  had  I  among  the  hungry 
giants  there?  And  so  down  the  stream  I  drifted  until 
"Grim  Want"  brought  me  to  the  last  shilling,  the  last 
lodging,  and  the  last  meal.  What  shall  I  do?  Where  shall 
I  go?  I  tried  to  think.  Must  I  starve?  Surely  there 
must  be  some  door  still  open  for  honest,  willing  en- 
deavor, but  where?  What  can  I  do?  "Drink,"  said  the 
Tempter;  but  to  drink  to  drunkenness  needs  cash,  and 
oblivion  by  liquor  demands  an  equivalent  in  the  cur- 
rency. 

Starve  or  steal.  "You  must  do  one  or  the  other,"  said 
the  Tempter.  But  I  recoiled  from  being  a  Thief.  "Why 
be  so  particular?"  says  the  Tempter  again.  "You  are 
down  nov/,  who  will  trouble  about  you?  Why  trouble 
about  yourself?  The  choice  is  between  starving  and 
stealing."  And  I  struggled  until  hunger  stole  my  judg- 
ment, and  then  I  became  a  Thief. 

No  one  can  pretend  that  it  was  an  idle  fear  of  death 
by  starvation  which  drove  this  poor  fellow  to  steal. 
Deaths  from    actual    hunger   are   more   common   than  is 


44  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

generally  supposed.  Last  year,  a  man,  whose  name  was 
never  known,  was  walking  through  St.  James's  Park, 
when  three  of  our  Shelter  men  saw  him  suddenly  stumble 
and  fall.  They  thought  he  was  drunk,  but  found  he  had 
fainted.  They  carried  him  to  the  bridge  and  gave  him 
to  the  police.  They  took  him  to  St.  George's  Hospital, 
where  he  died.  It  appeared  that  he  had,  according  to 
his  own  tale,  walj^ed  up  from  Liverpool,  and  had  been 
without  food  for  five  days.  The  doctor,  however,  said  he 
had  gone  longer  than  that.  The  jury  returned  a  ver- 
dict of  "Death  from  Starvation." 

Without  food  for  five  days  or  longer!  Who  that  has 
experienced  the  sinking  sensation  that  is  felt  when  even 
a  single  meal  has  been  sacrificed  may  form  some  idea  of 
what  kind  of  slow  torture  killed  that  man! 

In  1888  the  average  daily  number  of  unemployed  in 
London  was  estimated  by  the  Mansion  House  Committee 
at  20,000.  This  vast  reservoir  of  unemplo5^ed  labor  is  the 
bane  of  all  efforts  to  raise  the  scale  of  living,  to  improve 
the  condition  of  labor.  Men  hungering  to  death  for  lack 
of  opportunity  to  earn  a  crust  are  the  materials  from 
which  "blacklegs"  are  made,  by  whose  aid  the  laborer 
is  constantly  defeated  in  his  attempts  to  improve  his  con- 
dition. 

This  is  the  problem  that  underlies  all  questions  of 
Trades  Unionism,  and  all  Schemes  for  the  Improvement 
of  the  Condition  of  the  Industrial  Army.  To  rear  any 
stable  edifice  that  will  not  perish  when  the  first  storm 
rises  and  the  first  hurricane  blows,  it  must  be  built  not 
upon  sand,  but  upon  a  rock.  And  the  worst  of  all  exist- 
ing Schemes  for  social  betterment  by  organization  of 
the  skilled  workers  and  the  like  is  that  they  are  founded, 
not  upon  "rock,"  nor  even  upon  "sand,"  but  upon  the 
bottomless  bog  of  the  stratum  of  the  Workless.  It  is 
here  where  we  must  begin.     The  regimentation  of  indus- 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  45 

trial  workers  who  have  got  regular  work  is  not  so  very- 
difficult.  That  can  be  done,  and  is  being  done,  by  them- 
selves. The  problem  that  we  have  to  face  is  the  regi- 
mentation, the  organization,  of  those  who  have  not  got 
work,  or  who  have  only  irregular  work,  and  who  from 
sheer  pressure  of  absolute  starvation  are  driven  irresist- 
ibly into  cut  throat  competition  with  their  better 
employed  brothers  and  sisters.  Skin  for  skin,  all  that  a 
man  hath,  will  he  give  for  his  life;  much  more,  then, 
will  those  who  experimentally  know  not  God  give  all 
that  they  might  hope  hereafter  to  have — in  this  world 
or  in  the  world  to  come. 

There  is  no  gainsaying  the  immensity  of  the  prob- 
lem. It  is  appalling  enough  to  make  us  despair.  But 
those  who  do  not  put  their  trust  in  man  alone,  but  in 
One  who  is  Almighty,  have  no  right  to  despair.  To  de- 
spair is  to  lose  faith  ;  to  despair  is  to  forget  God.  With- 
out God  we  can  do  nothing  in  this  frightful  chaos  of 
human  misery.  But  with  God  we  can  do  all  things,  and 
in  the  faith  that  He  has  made  in  His  image  all  the 
children  of  men,  w^e  face  even  this  hideous  wreckage  of 
humanity  with  a  cheerful  confidence  that  if  we  are  but 
faithful  to  our  own  high  calling  He  will  not  fail  to  open 
up  a  way  of  deliverance. 

I  have  nothing  to  say  against  those  who  are  endeavor- 
ing to  open  up  a  way  of  escape  without  any  conscious- 
ness of  God's  help.  For  them  I  feel  only  sympathy 
and  compassion.  In  so  far  as  they  are  endeavoring  to 
give  bread  to  the  hungry,  clothing  to  the  naked,  and 
above  all,  work  to  the  workless,  they  are  to  that  extent 
endeavoring  to  do  the  will  of  our  Father  which  is  in 
Heaven,  and  woe  be  unto  all  those  who  say  them  nay! 
But  to  be  orphaned  of  all  sense  of  the  Fatherhood  of 
God  is  surely  not  a  secret  source  of  strength.  It  is  in  most 
cases — it  would  be  in  my  own — the  secret  of  paralysis. 


46  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

If  I  did  not  feel  my  Father's  hand  in  the  darkness,  and 
hear  His  voice  in  the  silence  of  the  night  watches  bid- 
ding me  put  my  hand  to  this  thing,  I  would  shrink  back 
dismayed;   but  as  it  is  I  dare  not. 

How  many  are  there  who  have  made  similar  attempts 
and  have  failed,  and  we  have  heard  of  them  no  more! 
Yet  none  of  them  proposed  to  deal  with  more  than  the  mere 
fringe  of  the  evil  which,  God  helping  me,  I  will  try  to 
face  in  all  its  immensity.  Most  Schemes  that  are  put 
forward  for  the  Improvement  of  the  Circumstances  of  the 
People  are  either  avowedly  or  actually  limited  to  those 
whose  condition  least  needs  amelioration.  The  Uto- 
pians, the  economists,  and  most  of  the  philanthropists 
propound  remedies,  which,  if  adopted  to-morrow,  would 
only  affect  the  aristocracy  of  the  miserable.  It  is  the 
thrifty,  the  industrious,  the  sober,  the  thoughtful  who 
can  take  advantage  of  these  plans.  But  the  thrifty,  the 
industrious,  the  sober,  and  the  thoughtful  are  already 
very  well  able  for  the  most  part  to  take  care  of  them- 
selves. No  one  will  ever  make  even  a  visible  dint  on 
the  morass  of  Squalor  who  does  not  deal  with  the  im- 
provident, the  lazy,  the  vicious,  and  the  criminal.  The 
Scheme  of  Social  Salvation  is  not  worth  discussion 
which  is  not  as  wide  as  the  Scheme  of  Eternal  Salvation 
set  forth  in  the  Gospel.  The  Glad  Tidings  must  be  to 
every  creature,  not  merely  to  an  elect  few  who  are  to  be 
saved  while  the  mass  of  their  fellows  are  predestined  to 
a  temporal  damnation.  We  have  had  this  doctrine  of 
an  inhuman  cast-iron  pseudo-political  economy  too  long 
enthroned  amongst  us.  It  is  now  time  to  fling  down  the 
false  idol,  and  proclaim  a  Temporal  Salvation  as  full, 
free,  and  universal,  and  with  no  other  limitations  than 
the  "Whosoever  will"  of  the  Gospel. 

To  attempt  to  save  the  Lost,  we  must  accept  no  lim- 
itations to  human  brotherhood.     If  the  Scheme  which  I 


AND  THE  WAY  OWT  4.1 

set  forth  in  these  and  the  following  pages  is  not  appli- 
cable to  the  Thief,  the  Harlot,  the  Drunkard,  and  the 
Sluggard,  it  may  as  well  be  dismissed  without  cere- 
mony. As  Christ  came  to  call  not  the  saints  but  sin- 
ners to  repentance,  so  the  New  Message  of  Temporal 
Salvation,  of  salvation  from  pinching  poverty,  from  rags 
and  misery,  must  be  offered  to  all.  They  may  reject  it, 
of  course.  But  we  who  call  ourselves  by  the  name  of 
Christ  are  not  worthy  to  profess  to  be  His  disciples  un- 
til we  have  set  an  open  door  before  the  least  and  worst 
of  these  who  are  now  apparently  imprisoned  for  life  in 
a  horrible  dungeon  of  misery  and  despair.  The  respon- 
sibility for  its  rejection  must  be  theirs,  not  ours.  We 
all  know  the  prayer,  "Give  me  neither  poverty  nor 
riches,  feed  me  with  food  convenient  for  me;  "  and  for 
every  child  of  man  on  this  planet,  thank  God,  the  prayer 
of  Agur,  the  son  of  Jakeh,  may  be  fulfilled. 

At  present  how  far  it  is  from  being  realized  may  be 
seen  by  anyone  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  go  down  to 
the  docks  and  see  the  struggle  for  work.  Here  is  a 
sketch  of  what  was  found  there  this  Summer: 

London  Docks,  7.25  a.  m.  The  three  pairs  of  huge 
wooden  doors  are  closed.  Leaning  against  them,  and 
standing  about,  there  are  perhaps  a  couple  of  hundred 
men.  The  public  house  opposite  is  full,  doing  a  heavy 
trade.  All  along  the  road  are  groups  of  men,  and  from 
each  direction  a  steady  stream  increases  the  crowd  at 
the  gate. 

7.30.  Doors  open;  there  is  a  general  rush  to  the  in- 
terior. Everybody  marches  about  a  hundred  yards  along 
to  the  iron  barrier — a  temporary  chain  affair,  guarded  by 
the  dock  police.  Those  men  who  have  previously  (/.  e., 
night  before)  been  engaged,  show  their  ticket  and  pass 
through — about  six  hundred.  The  rest — some  five  hun- 
dred— stand  behind  ihe  barrier,  patrently  waiting  the 
chance  of  a  job,  but  /ess  than  twenty  oi  these  get  engaged. 
They  are  taken  on  by  a  foreman  who   appears    next    the 


48  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

barrier  and  proceeds  to  pick  his  men.  No  sooner  is  the 
foreman  seen  than  there  is  a  wild  rush  to  the  spot  and 
a  sharp,  mad  fight  to  "catch  his  eye."  The  men  picked 
out  pass  the  barrier,  and  the  excitement  dies  awav  until 
another  lot  of  men  is  wanted. 

They  wait  until  eight  o'clock  strikes,  which  is  the  sig- 
nal to  withdraw.  The  barrier  is  taken  down,  and  all 
those  hundreds  of  men  wearily  disperse  to  "find  a  job." 
Five  hundred  applicants;  twenty  acceptancies!  No 
wonder  one  tired-out  looking  individual  ejaculates,  "Oh 
dear.  Oh  dear!  Whatever  shall  I  do?"  A  few  hang 
about  until  mid-day  on  the  slender  chance  of  getting 
taken  on  then  for  half  a  day. 

Ask  the  men  and  they  will  tell  you  something  like 
the  following  story,  which  gives  the  simple  experiences 
of  a  dock  laborer: 

R.  P.  said:  "I  was  in  regular  work  at  the  South 
West  India  Docks  before  the  strike.  We  got  56..  an 
hour.  Start  work  8  a.  m.  summer  and  9  a.  m.  winter. 
Often  there  would  be  five  hundred  go,  and  only  twenty 
get  taken  on  (that  is,  besides  those  engaged  the  night  pre- 
vious). The  foreman  stood  in  his  box,  and  called  out  the 
men  he'wanted.  He  would  know  quite  five  hundred  by 
name.  It  was  a  regular  fight  to  get  work.  I  have  known 
nine  hundred  to  betaken  on,  but  there's  always  hundreds 
turned  away.  You  see  they  get  to  know  when  ships  come 
in,  and  when  they're  consequently  likely  to  be  wanted, 
and  turn  up  then  in  greater  numbers.  I  would  earn  30s.  a 
week  sometimes,  and  then  perhaps  nothing  for  a  fortnight. 
That's  what  makes  it  so  hard.  You  get  nothing  to  eat 
for  a  week  scarcely,  and  then  when  you  get  taken  on,  you 
are  so  weak  that  you  can't  do  it  properly.  I've  stood  in 
the  crowd  at  the  gate  and  had  to  go  away  without  work, 
hundreds  of  times.  Still  I  should  go  at  it  again  if  I 
could.  I  got  tired  of  the  little  work,  and  went  away 
into  the  country  to  get  work  on  a  farm,  but  couldn't  get 
it,  so  I'm  without  the  los.  that  it  costs  to  join  the  Dockers' 
Union.  I'm  going  to  the  country  again  in  a  day  or  two 
to  try  again.  Expect  to  get  3s.  a  day  perhaps.  Shall 
come  back  to  the  docks  again.  There  t's  a  chance  of  get- 
ting regular  dock  work,  and  that  is,  to  lounge  about  the 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  49 

pubs,  where  the  foremen  go,  and  treat  them.     Then  they 
will  very  likely  take  you  on  next  day." 

R.  P.  was  a  non-Unionist.  Henry  F.  is  a  Unionist, 
His  history  is  much  the  same: 

"I  worked  at  St.  Katherine's  Docks  five  months  ago. 
You  have  to  get  to  the  gates  at  6  o'clock  for  the  first 
call.  There's  generally  about  400  waiting.  They  will 
take  on  one  to  two  hundred.  Then  at  7  o'clock  there's  a 
second  call.  Another  400  will  have  gathered  by  then, 
and  another  hundred  or  so  will  be  taken  on.  Also  there 
will  probably  be  calls  at  nine  and  one  o'clock.  About 
the  same  number  turn  up,  but  there's  no  work  for  many 
hundreds  of  them.  I  was  a  Union  man.  That  means 
los.  a  week  sick  pay,  or  8s.  a  week  for  slight  accidents; 
also  some  other  advantages.  The  docks  won't  take  men 
on  now  unless  they  are  Unionists.  The  point  is  that 
there's  too  many  men.  I  would  often  be  out  of  w^ork  a 
fortnight  to  three  weeks  at  a  time.  Once  earned  ;^3  in  a 
w^eek,  working  day  and  night,  but  then  had  a  fortnight 
out  directly  after.  Especially  w^hen  there  don't  happen 
to  be  any  ships  in  for  a  few  days,  which  means,  of  course, 
nothing  to  unload — that' s  the  time;  there' s  plenty  of  men 
almost  starving  then.  They  have  no  trade  to  go  to,  or  can 
get  no  work  at  it,  and  they  swoop  down  to  the  docks  for 
work,  when  they  had  much  better  stay  away." 

But  it  is  not  only  at  the  dock-gates  that  you  come  upon 
these  unfortunates  who  spend  their  lives  in  the  vain  hunt 
for  work.  Here  is  the  story  of  another  man  whose  case 
has  only  too  many  parallels: 

C.  is  a  fine  built  man,  standing  nearly  six  feet.  He 
has  been  in  the  Royal  Artillery  for  eight  years  and  held 
very  good  situations  whilst  in  it.  It  seems  that  he  was 
thrifty  and  consequently  steady.  He  bought  his  discharge, 
and  being  an  excellent  cook  opened  a  refreshment  house, 
but  at  the  end  of  five  months  he  was  compelled  to  close 
his  shop  on  account  of  slackness  in  trade,  which  was 
brought  about  by  the  closing  of  a  large  factory  in  the 
locality. 

After  having  worked  in  Scotland  and  Newcastle-on-Tyne 

4 


50  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

for  a  few  years,  and  through  ill  health  having  to  give  up 
his  situation,  he  came  to  London  with  the  hope  that  he 
might  get  something  to  do  in  his  native  town.  He  has 
had  no  regular  employment  for  the  past  eight  months. 
His  wife  and  family  are  in  a  state  of  destitution,  and  he 
remarked,  "We  only  had  i  lb.  of  bread  between  us  yes- 
terday. "  He  is  six  weeks  in  arrears  of  rent,  and  is  afraid 
that  he  will  be  ejected.  The  furniture  which  is  in  his 
home  is  not  worth  3s.,  and  the  clothes  of  each  member  of 
his  family  are  in  a  tattered  state  and  hardly  fit  for  the  rag 
bag.  He  assured  us  he  had  tried  everywhere  to  get  em- 
ployment and  would  be  willing  to  take  anything.  His 
characters  are  very  good  indeed. 

Now,  it  may  seem  a  preposterous  dream  that  any  ar- 
rangement can  be  devised  by  which  it  may  be  possible, 
under  all  circumstances,  to  provide  food,  clothes,  and 
shelter  for  all  these  Out-of-Works  without  any  loss  of 
self-respect;  but  I  am  convinced  that  it  can  be  done, 
providing  only  that  they  are  willing  to  Work,  and,  God 
helping  me,  if  the  means  are  forthcoming,  I  mean  to  try 
to  do  it;  how,  and  where,  and  when,  I  will  explain  in 
subsequent  chapters. 

All  that  I  need  say  here  is,  that  so  long  as  a  man  or 
woman  is  willing  to  submit  to  the  discipline  indispensa- 
ble in  every  campaign  against  any  formidable  foe,  there 
appears  to  me  nothing  impossible  about  this  ideal ;  and 
the  great  element  of  hope  before  us  is  that  the  majority 
are,  beyond  all  gainsaying,  eager  for  work.  Most  of  them 
now  do  more  exhausting  work  in  seeking  for  employment 
than  the  regular  toilers  do  in  their  workshops,  and  do 
it,  too,  under  the  darkness  of  hope  deferred  which  maketh 
the  heart  sick. 


CHAPTER  V 

ON  THE  VERGE  OF  THE  ABYSS 

There  is,  unfortunately,  no  need  for  me  to  attempt  to  set 
<  ut,  however  imperfectly,  any  statement  of  the  evil  case 
of  the  sufferers  whom  we  wish  to  help.  For  years  past 
the  Press  has  been  filled  with  echoes  of  the  "Bitter  Cry 
of  Outcast  London,"  with  pictures  of  "Horrible  Glas- 
gow," and  the  like.  We  ha:ve  had  several  volumes  de- 
scribing "How  the  Poor  Live,"  and  I  may  therefore  as- 
sume that  all  my  readers  are  more  or  less  cognizant  of  the 
main  outlines  of  "Darkest  England."  My  slum  officers 
are  living  in  the  midst  of  it;  their  reports  are  before 
me,  and  one  day  I  may  publish  some  more  detailed  ac- 
count of  the  actual  facts  of  the  social  condition  of  the 
Sunken  Millions.  But  not  now.  All  that  must  be  taken 
as  read.  I  only  glance  at  the  subject  in  order  to  bring 
into  clear  relief  the  salient  points  of  our  new  enterprise. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  houseless  poor.  Each  of  these 
represents  a  point  in  the  scale  of  human  suffering  below 
that  of  those  who  have  still  contrived  to  keep  a  shelter 
over  their  heads.  A  home  is  a  home,  be  it  ever  so  low; 
and  the  desperate  tenacity  with  which  the  poor  will 
cling  to  the  last  wretched  semblance  of  one  is  very 
touching.  There  are  vile  dens,  fever-haunted  and  stench- 
ful  crowded  courts,  where  the  return  of  summer  is  dreaded 
because  it  means  the  unloosing  of  myriads  of  vermin 
which  render  night  unbearable,  which,  nevertheless,  are 
regarded  at  this  moment  as  havens  of  rest  by  their  hard- 

51 


53  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

working  occupants.  They  can  scarcely  be  said  to  be 
furnished.  A  chair,  a  mattress,  and  a  few  miserable 
sticks  constitute  all  the  furniture  of  the  single  room  in 
which  they  have  to  sleep,  and  breed,  and  die;  but  they 
cling  ^o  it  as  a  drowning  man  to  a  half-submerged  raft. 
Every  week  they  contrive  by  pinching  and  scheming  to 
raise  the  rent,  for  with  them  it  is  pay  or  go;  and  they 
struggle  to  meet  the  collector  as  the  sailor  nerves  him- 
self to  avoid  being  sucked  under  by  the  foaming  wave. 
If  at  any  time  work  fails  or  sickness  comes  they  are  lia- 
ble to  drop  helplessly  into  the  ranks  of  the  homeless.  It 
is  bad  for  a  single  man  to  have  to  confront  the  struggle 
for  life  in  the  streets  and  Casual  Wards.  But  how  much 
more  terrible  must  it  be  for  the  married  man  with  his 
wife  and  children  to  be  turned  out  into  the  streets.  So 
long  as  the  family  has  a  lair  into  which  it  can  creep  at 
night,  he  keeps  his  footing;  but  when  he  loses  that  soli- 
tary foothold,  then  arrives  the  time,  if  there  be  such  a 
thing  as  Christian  compassion,  for  the  helping  hand  to 
be  held  out  to  save  him  from  the  vortex  that  sucks  him 
downward — aye,  downward  to  the  hopeless  under-strata 
of  crime  and  despair. 

The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness,  and  the  stranger 
intermeddleth  not  therewith."  But  now  and  then  out  of 
the  depths  there  sounds  a  bitter  wail  as  of  some  strong 
swimmer  in  his  agony  as  he  is  drawn  under  by  the  cur- 
rent. A  short  time  ago  a  respectable  man,  a  chemist  in 
Holloway,  fifty  years  of  age,  driven  hard  to  the  wall, 
tried  to  end  it  all  by  cutting  his  throat.  His  wife  also 
cut  her  throat,  and  at  the  same  time  they  gave  strychnine 
to  their  only  child.  The  effort  failed,  and  they  were 
placed  on  trial  for  attempted  murder.  In  the  Court  a 
letter  was  read  which  the  poor  wretch  had  written  be- 
fore attempting  his  life: 

My    Dearest    George:      Twelve    months  have  I    now 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  53 

passed  of  a  most  miserable  and  struggling  existence,  and 
I  really  cannot  stand  it  any  more.  I  am  completely  worn 
out,  and  relations  who  could  assist  me  won't  do  any  more, 
for  such  was  uncle's  last  intimation.  Never  mind;  he 
can't  take  his  money  and  comfort  with  him,  and  in  all 
probability  will  find  himself  in  the  same  boat  as^ my- 
self. He  never  inquires  whether  I  am  starving  or  not; 
;^3 — a  mere  flea-bite  to  him — would  have  put  us  straight, 
and  with  his  security  and  good  interest  might  have 
obtained  me  a  good  situation  long  ago.  I  can  face  pov- 
erty and  degradation  no  longer,  and  would  sooner  die 
than  go  to  the  workhouse,  whatever  may  be  the  awful 
consequences  of  the  steps  we  have  taken.  We  have,  God 
forgive  us,  taken  our  darling  Arty  with  us  out  of  pure 
love  and  affection,  so  that  the  darling  should  never  be 
cuffed  about,  or  reminded  or  taunted  with  his  heart- 
broken parents'  crime.  My  poor  wife  has  done  her  best 
at  needle-work,  washing,  house-minding,  etc.,  in  fact, 
anything  and  everything  that  would  bring  in  a  shilling; 
but  it  would  only  keep  us  in  semi-starvation.  I  have 
now  done  six  wrecks'  traveling  from  morning  till  night, 
and  not  received  one  farthing  for  it.  If  that  is  rot 
enough  to  drive  you  mad — wickedly  mad — I  don't  know 
what  is.  No  bright  prospect  anywhere;  no  ray  of  hope. 
May  God  Almighty  forgive  us  for  this  heinous  sin, 
and  have  mercy  on  our  sinful  souls,  is  the  prayer  of  your 
miserable,  broken-hearted,  but  loving  brother,  Arthur. 
We  have  now  done  everything  that  we  can  possibly  think 
of  to  avert  this  wicked  proceeding,  but  can  discover  no 
ray  of  hope.  Fervent  prayer  has  availed  us  nothing; 
our  lot  is  cast,  and  we  must  abide  by  it.  It  must  be 
God's  will  or  He  would  have  ordained  it  differently. 
Dearest  George,  I  am  exceedingly  sorr}^  to  leave  j^ou  all, 
but  I  am  mad — thoroughl}^  mad.  You,  dear,  must  try 
and  forget  us,  and,  if  possible,  forgive  us;  for  I  do  not 
consider  it  our  own  fault  we  have  not  succeeded.  If 
you  could  get  ;^3  for  our  bed  it  will  pa}^  our  rent,  and 
our  scanty  furniture  may  fetch  enough  to  bury  us  in  a 
cheap  way.  Don't  grieve  over  us  or  follow  us,  for  we 
shall  not  be  worthy  of  such  respect.  Our  clergyman 
has  never  called  on  us  or  given  us  the  least  consolation, 
though  I  :  Jled  on    him  a    month    ago.      He    is   paid    to 


54  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

preach,  and  there  he  considers  his  responsibility  ends, 
the  rich  excepted.  We  have  only  yourself  and  a  very  fev^ 
others  who  care  one  pin  v^^hat  becomes  of  us;  but  you 
must  try  and  forgive  us,  is  the  last  fervent  prayer  of  your 
devotedly  fond  and  affectionate  but  broken-hearted  and 
persecuted  brother.  (Signed)  R.  A.  O . 

That  is  an  authentic  human  document — a  transcript 
from  the  life  of  one  among  thousands  who  go  down  inar- 
ticulate into  the  depths.  They  die  and  make  no  sign,  or, 
worse  still,  they  continue  to  exist,  carrying  about  with 
them,  year  after  year,  the  bitter  ashes  of  a  life  from 
which  the  furnace  of  misfortune  has  burned  away  all  joy, 
and  hope,  and  strength.  Who  is  there  who  has  not  been 
confronted  by  many  despairing  ones,  who  come,  as  Rich- 
ard O went  to  the  clergyman,    crying    for  help,  and 

how  seldom  have  we  been  able  to  give  it  them?  It  is 
unjust,  no  doubt,  for  them  to  blame  the  clergy  and  the 
comfortable  well-to-do — for  what  can  they  do  but  preach 

and  offer  good  advice?     To  assist  all  the  Richard  O s 

by  direct  financial  advance  would  drag  even  Rothschild 
into  the  gutter.  And  what  else  can  be  done?  Yet  some- 
thing else  must  be  done  if  Christianity  is  not  to  be  a 
mockery  to  perishing  men. 

Here  is  another  case,  a  very  common  case,  which  illus- 
trates how  the  Army  of  Despair  is  recruited: 

Mr.  T — ,  Margaret  Place,  Gascoign  Place,  Bethnal 
Green,  is  a  bootmaker  by  trade.  Is  a  good  hand,  and 
has  earned  three  shillings  and  sixpence  to  four  shillings 
and  sixpence  a  day.  He  was  taken  ill  last  Christmas, 
and  went  to  the  London  Hospital;  was  there  three 
months.  A  week  after  he  had  gone  Mrs.  T —  had  rheu- 
matic fever,  and  was  taken  to  Bethnal  Green  Infirmary, 
where  she  renjained  about  three  months.  Directly  after 
they  had  been  taken  ill,  their  furniture  was  seized  for 
the  three  weeks'  rent  which  was  owing.  Consequently, 
on  becoming  convalescent,  they  were  homeless.  They 
came  out  about  the  same  time.     He  went  out  to  a  lodg- 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  55 

ing-house  for  a  night  or  two,  until  she  came  out.  He 
then  had  twopence,  and  she  had  sixpence,  which  a  nurse 
had  given  her.  They  went  to  a  lodging-house  together, 
but  the  society  there  was  dreadful.  Next  day  he  had  a 
day's  work,  and  got  two  shillings  and  sixpence,  and  on 
the  strength  of  this  they  took  a  furnished  room  at  ten- 
pence  per  day  (payable  nightly).  His  work  lasted  a  few 
weeks,  when  he  was  again  taken  ill,  lost  his  job,  and 
spent  all  their  money.  Pawned  a  shirt  and  apron  for  a 
shilling;  spent  that,  too.  At  last  pawned  their  tools 
for  three  shillings,  which  got  them  a  few  days'  food 
and  lodging.  He  is  now  minus  tools  and  cannot  work  at 
his  own  job,  and  does  anything  he  can.  Spent  their 
last  twopence  on  a  pen'orth  each  of  tea  and  sugar.  In 
two  days  they  had  a  slice  of  bread  and  butter  each; 
that's  all.  They  are  both  very  weak  through  want  of 
food. 

"Let  things  alone,"  the  laws  of  supply  and  demand, 
and  all  the  rest  of  the  excuses  by  which  thost  who  stand 
on  firm  ground  salve  their  consciences  when  they  leave 
their  brother  to  sink,  how  do  they  look  when  we  apply 
them  to  the  actual  loss  of  life  at  sea?  Does  "Let  things 
alone"  man  the  lifeboat?  Will  the  inexorable  laws  of 
political  economy  save  the  shipwrecked  sailor  from  the 
boiling  surf?  They  often  enough  are  responsible  for  his 
disaster.  Cofhn  ships  are  a  direct  result  of  the  wretched 
policy  of  non-interference  with  the  legitimate  operations 
of  commerce;  but  no  desire  to  make  it  pay  created  the 
National  Lifeboat  Institution;  no  law  of  supply  and  de- 
mand actuates  the  volunteers  who  risk  their  lives  to 
bring  the  shipwrecked  to  shore. 

What  we  have  to  do  is  to  apply  the  same  principle 
to  society.  We  want  a  Social  Lifeboat  Institution,  a 
Social  Lifeboat  Brigade,  to  snatch  from  the  abyss  those 
who,  if  left  to  themselves,  will  perish  as  miserably  as 
the  crew  of  a  ship  that  founders  in  mid-ocean. 

The  moment  that  we  take  in  hand  this  work  we    shall 


56  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

be  compelled  to  turn  our  attention  seriously  to  the 
question  whether  prevention  is  not  better  than  cure. 
It  is  easier  and  cheaper,  and  in  every  way  better,  to  pre- 
vent the  loss  of  home  than  to  have  to  re-create  that  home. 
It  is  better  to  keep  a  man  out  of  the  mire  than  to  let  him 
fall  in  first  and  then  risk  the  chance  of  plucking  him  uot. 
Any  Scheme,  therefore,  that  attempts  to  deal  with  the 
reclamation  of  the  lost  must  tend  to  develop  into  an 
endless  variety  of  ameliorative  measures,  of  some  of 
which  I  shall  have  somewhat  to  say  hereafter.  I  only 
mention  the  subject  here  in  order  that  no  one  may  say 
I  am  blind  to  the  necessity  of  going  further  and  adopt- 
ing wider  plans  of  operation  than  those  which  I  put  for- 
ward in  this  book.  The  renovation  of  our  Social  System 
is  a  work  so  vast  that  no  one  of  us,  nor  all  of  us  put  to- 
gether, can  define  all  the  measures  that  will  have  to  be 
taken  before  we  attain  even  the  Cab-Horse  Ideal  of  exist- 
ence for  our  children  and  children's  children.  All  that 
we  can  do  is  to  attack,  in  a  serious,  practical  spirit,  the 
worst  and  most  pressing  evils,  knowing  that  if  we  do 
our  duty  we  obey  the  voice  of  God.  He  is  the  Captain 
of  our  Salvation.  If  we  but  follow  where  He  leads  we 
shall  not  want  for  marching  orders,  nor  need  we  imagine 
that  He  will  narrow  the  field  of  operations. 

I  am  laboring  under  no  delusions  as  to  the  possibility 
of  inaugurating  the  Millennium  by  any  social  specific. 
In  the  struggle  of  life  the  weakest  will  go  to  the  wall, 
and  there  are  so  many  weak.  The  fittest  in  tooth  and 
claw  will  survive.  All  that  we  can  do  is  to  soften  the 
lot  of  the  unfit  and  make  their  suffering  less  horrible 
than  it  is  at  present.  No  amount  of  assistance  will  give 
a  jelly-fish  a  backbone.  No  outside  propping  will  make 
some  men  stand  erect.  All  material  help  from  without 
is  useful  only  in  so  far  as  it  develops  moral  strength 
within.     And  some  men  seem  to  have  lost  even  the  very 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  57 

faculty  of  self-help.  There  is  an  immense  lack  of  com- 
mon sense  and  of  vital  energy  on  the  part  of  multitiidcc. 

It  is  against  Stupidity  in  every  shape  and  form  that  '^'e 
have  to  wage  our  eternal  battle.  But  how  can  we  wonder 
at  the  want  of  sense  on  the  part  of  those  who  h'Ave  had 
no  advantages,  when  we  see  such  plentiful  absence  of 
that  commodity  on  the  part  of  those  who  have  had  all 
the  advantages? 

How  can  we  marvel  if,  after  leaving  generation  after 
generation  to  grow  up  uneducated  and  underfed,  there 
should  be  developed  a  heredity  of  incapacity,  and  that 
thousands  of  dull-witted  people  should  be  born  into  the 
world,  disinherited  before  their  birth  of  their  share  in 
the  average  intelligence  of  mankind? 

Besides  those  who  are  thus  hereditarily  wanting  in 
the  qualities  necessary  to  enable  them  to  hold  their  own, 
there  are  the  weak,  the  disabled,  the  aged,  and  the  un- 
skilled; worse  than  all,  there  is  the  want  of  character. 
Those  who  have  the  best  of  reputation,  if  they  lose 
their  foothold  on  the  ladder,  find  it  difficult  enough  to 
regain  their  place.  What,  then,  can  men  and  women 
who  have  no  character  do?  When  a  master  has  the 
choice  of  a  hundred  honest  men,  is  it  reasonable  to  expect 
that  he  will  select  a  poor  fellow  with  tarnished  reputa- 
tion? 

All  this  is  true,  and  it  is  one  of  the  things  that  makes 
the  problem  almost  insoluble.  And  insoluble  it  is,  I 
am  absolutely  convinced,  unless  it  is  possible  to  bring 
new  moral  life  into  the  soul  of  these  people.  This 
should  be  the  first  object  of  every  social  reformer,  whose 
work  will  only  last  if  it  is  built  on  the  solid  foundation 
of  a  new  birth  to  cry,  "You  must  be  born  again." 

To  get  a  man  soundly  saved  it  is  not  enough  to  put  on 
him  a  pair  of  new  breeches,  to  give  him  regular  work,  or 
even  to  give  him  a  University  education.      These  things 


58  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

are  all  outside  a  man,  and  if  the  inside  remains  un- 
changed you  have  wasted  your  labor.  You  must  in  some 
way  or  other  graft  upon  the  man's  nature  a  new  nature 
which  has  in  it  the  element  of  the  divine.  All  that  I 
propose  in  this  book  is  governed  by  that  principle. 

The  difference  between  the  method  which  seeks  to  re- 
generate the  man  by  ameliorating  his  circumstances  and 
that  which  ameliorates  his  circumstances  in  order  to  get 
at  the  regeneration  of  his  heart,  is  the  difference  be- 
tween the  method  of  the  gardener  who  grafts  a  Ribstone 
Pippin  on  a  crab-apple  tree  and  one  who  merely  ties 
apples  with  string  upon  the  branches  of  the  crab.  To 
change  the  nature  of  the  individual,  to  get  at  the  heart, 
to  save  his  soul,  is  the  only  real,  lasting  method  of  doing 
him  any  good.  In  many  modern  schemes  of  social  re- 
generation it  is  forgotten  that  "it  takes  a  soul  to  move 
a  body,  e'en  to  a  cleaner  sty;  "  and  at  the  risk  of  being 
misunderstood  and  misrepresented,  I  must  assert  in  the 
most  unqualified  way  that  it  is  primarily  and  mainly  for 
the  sake  of  saving  the  soul  that  I  seek  the  salvation  of 
the  body. 

But  what  is  the  use  of  preaching  the  Gospel  to  men 
whose  whole  attention  is  concentrated  upon  a  mad,  des- 
perate struggle  to  keep  themselves  alive?  You  might 
as  well  give  a  tract  to  a  shipwrecked  sailor  who  is 
battling  with  the  surf  which  has  drowned  his  comrades 
and  threatens  to  drown  him.  He  will  not  listen  to  you. 
Nay,  he  cannot  hear  you  any  more  than  a  man  whose 
head  is  under  water  can  listen  to  a  sermon.  The  first 
thing  to  do  is  to  get  him  at  least  a  footing  on  firm 
ground,  and  to  give  him  room  to  live.  Then  you  may 
have  a  chance.  At  present  you  have  none.  And  you 
will  have  all  the  better  opportunity  to  find  a  way 
to  his  heart,  if  he  comes  to  know  that  it  was  you  who 
pulled  him  out  of  the  horrible  pit  and  the  miry  clay  in 
which  he  was  sinking  to  perditi' 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    VICIOUS 

There  are  many  vices  and  seven  deadly  sins.  But  of 
late  years  many  of  the  seven  have  contrived  to  pass 
themselves  off  as  virtues.  Avarice,  for  instance,  and 
Pride,  when  re-baptized  thrift  and  self-respect,  have  be- 
come the  guardian  angels  of  Christian  civilization;  and 
as  for  Envy,  it  is  the  corner-stone  upon  which  much  of 
our  competitive  system  is  founded.  There  are  still  two 
vices  which  are  fortunate,  or  unfortunate,  enough  to  re- 
main undisguised,  not  even  concealing  from  themselves 
the  fact  that  they  are  vices  and  not  virtues.  One  is 
drunkenness;  the  other  fornication.  The  viciousness  of 
these  vices  is  so  little  disguised,  even  from  those  who 
habitually  practice  them,  that  there  will  be  a  protest 
against  merely  describing  one  of  them  by  the  right  Bib- 
lical name.  Why  not  say  prostitution?  For  this  rea- 
son: prostitution  is  a  word  applied  to  only  one  half  of 
the  vice,  and  that  the  most  pitiable.  Fornication  hits 
both  sinners  alike.  Prostitution  applies  only  to  the 
woman. 

When,  however,  we  cease  to  regard  this  vice  from  the 
point  of  view  of  morality  and  religion,  and  look  at  it 
solely  as  a  factor  in  the  social  problem,  the  word  pros- 
titution is  less  objectionable.  For  the  social  burden  of 
this  vice  is  borne  almost  entirely  by  women.  The  male 
sinner  does  not,  by  the  mere  fact  of  his  sin,  find  himself 
in  a  worse  position  in  obtaining  employment,  in  finding 

59 


60  IN  DALKEST  ENGLAND 

a  home,  or  even  in  securing  a  wife.  His  wrong-doing  only 
hits  him  in  his  purse,  or,  perhaps,  in  his  health.  His 
incontinence,  excepting  so  far  as  it  relates  to  the  wom- 
.  an  whose  degradation  it  necessitates,  does  not  add  to 
the  number  of  those  for  whom  society  has  to  provide. 
It  is  an  immense  addition  to  the  infamy  of  this  vice  in 
man  that  its  consequences  have  to  be  borne  almost  ex- 
clusively by  women. 

The  difficulty  of  dealing  with  drunkards  and  harlots  is 
almost  insurmountable.  Were  it  not  that  I  utterly  re- 
pudiate as  a  fundamental  denial  of  the  essential  princi- 
ple of  the  Christian  religion  the  popular  pseudo-scien- 
tific doctrine  that  any  man  or  woman  is  past  saving  by 
the  grace  of  Gcd  and  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  I 
would  sometimes  be  disposed  to  despair  when  contem- 
plating these  victims  of  the  Devil.  The  doctrine  of 
Heredity  and  the  suggestion  of  Irresponsibility  come  per- 
ilously near  re-establishing,  on  scientific  bases,  the 
awful  dogma  of  Reprobation  which  has  cast  so  terrible  a 
shadow  over  the  Christian  Church.  For  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  these  poor  wretches  are,  as  Bishop  South 
truly  said,  "not  so  much  born  into  this  world  as  damned 
into  it."  The  bastard  of  a  harlot,  born  in  a  brothel, 
suckled  on  gin,  and  familiar  from  earliest  infancy  with 
all  the  bestialities  of  debauch,  violated  before  she  is 
twelve,  and  driven  out  in.to  the  streets  by  her  mother  a 
year  or  two  later,  what  chance  is  there  for  such  a  girl  in 
this  world — I  say  nothing  about  the  next?  Yet  such  a 
case  is  not  exceptional.  There  are  many  such,  differing  in 
detail,  but  in  essentials  the  same.  And  with  boys  it  is 
almost  as  bad.  There  are  thousands  who  were  begotten 
when  both  parents  were  besotted  with  drink,  whose 
mothers  saturated  themselves  with  alcohol  every  day  of 
their  pregnancy,  who  may  be  said  to  have  sucked  in  a 
taste  for  strong  drink  with  their  mother's  milk,  and  who 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  61 

were  surrounded  from  childhood  with  opportunities 
and  incitements  to  drink.  How  can  we  marvel  that 
the  constitution  thus  disposed  to  intemperance  finds 
the  stimulus  of  drink  indispensable?  Even  if  they  make  a 
stand  against  it,  the  increasing  pressure  of  exhaustion 
and  of  scanty  food  drives  them  back  to  the  cup.  Of 
these  poor  wretches,  born  slaves  of  the  bottle,  predes- 
tined to  drunkenness  from  their  mother's  womb,  there 
are — who  can  say  how  many?  Yet  they  are  all  men;  all 
with  what  the  Russian  peasants  call  "a  spark  of  God"  in 
them,  which  can  never  be  wholly  obscured  and  destroyed 
while  life  exists,  and  if  any  social  scheme  is  to  be  com- 
prehensive and  practical  it  must  deal  with  these  men. 
It  must  provide  for  the  drunkard  and  the  harlot  as  it 
provides  for  the  improvident  and  the  out-of-work.  But 
who  is  sufficient  for  these  things? 

^  I  will  take  the  question  of  the  drunkard,  for  the  drink 
difficulty  lies  at  the  root  of  everything.  Nine-tenths  of 
our  poverty,  squalor,  vice,  and  crime  spring  from  this 
poisonous  tap-root.  Many  of  our  social  evils,  which 
overshadow  the  land  like  so  many  upas  trees,  would 
dwindle  av/ay  and  die  if  they  were  not  constantly  watered 
with  strong  drink.  There  is  universal  agreement  on 
that  point;  in  fact,  the  agreement  as  to  the  evils  of  in- 
temperance is  almost  as  universal  as  the  conviction  that 
politicians  will  do  nothing  practical  to  interfere  with  them. 
In  Ireland,  Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald  says  that  intemperance 
leads  to  nineteen-twentieths  of  the  crime  in  that  coun- 
try, but  no  one  proposes  a  Coercion  Act  to  deal  with  that 
evil.  In  England,  the  judges  all  say  the  same  thing. 
Of  course  it  is  a  mistake  to  assume  that  a  murder,  for 
instance,  would  never  be  committed  by  sober  men,  be- 
cause murderers  in  most  cases  prime  themselves  for  their 
deadly  work  by  a  glass  of  Dutch  courage.  But  the  facil- 
ity of    securing  a  reinforcement  of  passion  undoubtedly 


63  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

tends  to  render  always  dangerous,  and  sometimes  irre- 
sistible, the  temptation  to  violate  the  laws  of  God  and 
man. 

Mere  lectures  against  the  evil  habits  are,  however,  of 
no  avail.  We  have  to  recognize  that  the  gin-palace, 
like  many  other  evils,  although  a  poisonous,  is  still  a 
natural  outgrowth  of  our  social  conditions.  The  tap- 
room in  many  cases  is  the  poor  man's  only  parlor.  Many 
a  man  takes  to  beer,  not  from  the  love  of  beer,  but  from 
a  natural  craving  for  the  light,  warmth,  company,  and 
comfort  which  is  thrown  in  along  with  the  beer,  and 
which  he  cannot  get  excepting  by  buying  beer.  Reform- 
ers will  never  get  rid  of  the  drink-shop  until  they  can 
outbid  it  in  the  subsidiary  attractions  which  it  offers 
to  its  customers.  Then,  again,  let  us  never  forget  that 
the  temptation  to  drink  is  strongest  when  want  is 
sharpest  and  misery  the  most  acute.  A  well-fed  man  is 
not  driven  to  drink  by  the  craving  that  torments  the 
hungry;  and  the  comfortable  do  not  crave  for  the  boon 
of  forgetfulness.  Gin  is  the  only  Leihe  of  the  miser- 
able. The  foul  and  poisoned  air  of  the  dens  in  which 
thousands  live  predisposes  to  a  longing  for  stimulant. 
Fresh  air,  with  its  oxygen  and  its  ozone,  being  lacking, 
a  man  supplies  the  want  with  spirit.  After  a  time  the 
longing  for  drink  becomes  a  mania.  Life  seems  as  in- 
supportable without  alcohol  as  without  food.  It  is  a 
disease  often  inherited,  always  developed  by  indulgence, 
but  as  clearly  a  disease  as  ophthalmia  or  stone. 

All  this  should  predispose  us  to  charity  and  sympa- 
thy. While  recognizing  that  the  primary  responsibility 
must  always  rest  upon  the  individual,  we  may  fairly  in- 
sist that  society,  which,  by  its  habits,  its  customs,  and 
its  laws,  has  greased  the  slope  down  which  these  poor 
creatures  slide  to  perdition,  shall  seriously  take  in  hand 
heir   salvation. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  63 

How  many  are  there  who  are  more  or  less  under  the 
dominion  of  strong  drink?  Statistics  abound,  but  they 
seldom  tell  us  what  we  want  to  know.  We  know  how 
many  public-houses  there  are  in  the  land,  and  how  many 
arrests  for  drunkenness  the  police  make  in  a  year;  but 
beyond  that  we  know  little.  Everyone  knows  that  for 
one  man  who  is  arrested  for  drunkenness  there  are  at 
least  ten — and  often  twenty — who  go  home  intoxicated. 
In  London,  for  instance,  there  are  14,000  drink-shops, 
and  every  year  20,000  persons  are  arrested  for  drunken- 
ness. But  who  can  for  a  moment  believe  that  there  are 
only  20,000,  more  or  less,  habitual  drunkards  in  London? 
By  habitual  drunkard  I  do  not  mean  one  who  is  always 
drunk,  but  one  who  is  so  much  under  the  dominion  of 
the  evil  habit  that  he  cannot  be  depended  upon  not  to 
get  drunk  whenever  the  opportunity  offers 

In  the  United  Kingdom  there  are  190,000  public- 
houses,  and  every  year  there  are  200,000  arrests  for 
drunkenness.  Of  course,  several  of  these  arrests  refer  to 
the  same  person,  who  is  locked  up  again  and  again. 
Were  this  not  so,  if  we  allowed  six  drunkards  to  each 
house  as  an  average,  or  five  habitual  drunkards  for  one 
arrested  for  drunkenness,  we  should  arrive  at  a  total  of 
a  million  adults  who  are  more  or  less  prisoners  of  the 
publican — as  a  matter  of  fact,  Isaac  Hoyle  gives  i  in 
12  of  the  adult  population.  This  may  be  an  excessive 
estimate,  but,  if  we  take  a  quarter  of  a  million,  we  shall 
not  be  accused  of  exaggeration.  Of  these  some  are  in 
the  last  stages  of  confirmed  dipsomania;  others  are  but 
over  the  verge;  but  the  procession  tends  ever  downwards. 
The  loss  which  the  maintenance  of  this  huge  standing 
army  of  a  half  of  a  million  of  men  who  are  more  or  less 
always  besotted,  men  whose  intemperance  impairs  their 
working  power,  consumes  their  earnings,  and  renders 
their  homes  wretched,  has  long  been  a  familiar  theme  of 


64  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

the  platform.  But  what  can  be  done  for  them?  Total 
abstinence  is  no  doubt  admirable,  but  how  are  you  to 
get  them  to  be  totally  abstinent?  When  a  man  is  drown- 
ing in  mid-ocean  the  one  thing  that  is  needful,  no  doubt, 
is  that  he  should  plant  his  feet  firmly  on  terra  firma. 
But  how  is  he  to  get  there?  It  is  just  what  he  cannot 
do.  And  so  it  is  with  the  drunkards.  If  they  are  to  be 
rescued  there  must  be  something  more  done  for  them 
than  at  present  is  attempted,  unless,  of  course,  we  de- 
cide definitely  to  allow  the  iron  laws  of  nature  to 
work  themselves  out  in  their  destruction.  In  that  case 
it  might  be  more  merciful  to  facilitate  the  slow  work- 
ings of  natural  law.  There  is  no  need  of  establishing 
a  lethal  chamber  for  drunkards  like  that  into  which  the 
lost  dogs  of  London  are  driven,  to  die  in  peaceful  sleep 
under  the  influence  of  carbonic  oxide.  The  State  would 
only  need  to  go  a  little  further  than  it  goes  at  present 
in  the  way  of  supplying  poison  to  the  community.  If, 
in  addition  to  planting  a  flaming  gin-palace  at  each 
corner,  free  to  all  who  enter,  it  were  to  supply  free  gin 
to  all  who  have  attained  a  certain  recognized  standard  of 
inebriety,  delirium  tremens  would  soon  reduce  our 
drunken  population  to  manageable  proportions.  I  can 
imagine  a  cynical  millionaire  of  the  scientific  philan- 
thropic school  making  a  clearance  of  all  the  drunkards 
in  a  district  by  the  simple  expedient  of  an  unlimited 
allowance  of  alcohol.  But  that  for  us  is  out  of  the 
question.  The  problem  of  what  to  do  with  our  quarter 
of  a  million  drunkards  remains  to  be  solved,  and  few 
more  difficult  questions  confront  the  social   reformer. 

The  question  of  the  harlots  is,  however,  quite  as  in- 
soluble by  the  ordinary  methods.  For  these  unfortu- 
nates no  one  who  looks  below  the  surface  can  fail  to 
have  the  deepest  sympathy.  Some  there  are,  no  doubt, 
perhaps  many,  who — whether  from  inherited  passion  or 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  65 

from  evil  education — have  deliberately  embarked  upon  a 
life  of  vice,  but  with  the  majority  it  is  not  so.  Even 
those  who  deliberately  and  of  free  choice  adopt  the  pro- 
fession of  a  prostitute,  do  so  under  the  stress  of  tempta- 
tions which  few  moralists  seem  to  realize.  Terrible  as 
the  fact  is,  there  is  no  doubt  it  is  a  fact  that  there  is  no 
industrial  career  in  which  for  a  short  time  a  beauti- 
ful girl  can  make  as  much  money  with  as  little  trouble 
as  the  profession  of  a  courtesan.  The  case  recentl}^  tried 
at  the  Lewes  assizes,  in  which  the  wife  of  an  officer  in 
the  army  admitted  that  while  living  as  a  kept  mistress 
she  had  received  as  much  as  ;^4,ooo  a  year,  was  no 
doubt  very  exceptional.  Even  the  most  successful  advent- 
uresses seldom  make  the  income  of  a  Cabinet  Minister. 
But  take  women  in  professions  and  in  businesses  all 
round,  and  the  number  of  young  women  who  have 
received  ^500  in  one  year  for  the  sale  of  their  person 
is  larger  than  the  number  of  women  of  all  ages  who  make 
a  similar  sum  by  honest  industry.  It  is  only  the  very 
few  who  draw  these  gilded  prizes,  and  they  only  do  it 
for  a  very  short  time.  But  it  is  the  few  prizes  in  every 
profession  which  allure  the  multitude,  who  think  little 
of  the  many  blanks.  And  speaking  broadly,  vice  offers 
to  every  good-looking  girl  during  the  first  bloom  of  her 
youth  and  beauty  more  money  than  she  can  earn  by 
labor  in  any  field  of  industry  open  to  her  sex.  The  penalty 
exacted  afterwards  is  disease,  degradation,  and  death,  but 
these  things  at  first  are  hidden  from  her  sight. 

The  profession  of  a  prostitute  is  the  only  career  in 
which  the  maximum  income  is  paid  to  the  newest 
apprentice.  It  is  the  one  calling  in  which  at  the  begin- 
ning the  only  exertion  is  that  of  self-indulgnce;  all  the 
prizes  are  at  the  commencement.  It  is  the  ever  new  em- 
bodiment of  the  old  fable  of  the  sale  of  the  soul  to  the 
Devil.  The  tempter  offers  wealth,  comfort,  excitement, 
5 


66  IN   DARKEST  ENGLAND 

but  in  return  the  victim  must  sell  her  soul,  nor  does  the 
other  party  forget  to  exact  his  due  to  the  uttermost  far- 
thing. Human  nature,  however,  is  short-sighted.  Giddy 
girls,  chafing  against  the  restraints  of  uncongenial  indus- 
try, see  the  glittering  bait  continually  before  them. 
They  are  told  that  if  they  will  but  "do  as  others  do," 
they  will  make  more  in  a  night,  if  they  are  lucky,  than 
they  can  make  in  a  week  at  their  sewing;  and  who  can 
wonder  that  in  many  cases  the  irrevocable  step  is  taken 
before  they  realize  that  it  is  irrevocable,  and  that  they 
have  bartered  away  the  future  of  their  lives  for  the  pal- 
try chance  of  a  year's  ill-gotten  gains? 

Of  the  severity  of  the  punishment  there  can  be  no 
question.  If  the  premium  is  high  at  the  beginning,  the 
penalty  is  terrible  at  the  close.  And  this  penalty  is 
exacted  equally  from  those  who  have  deliberately  said, 
"Evil,  be  thou  my  God,"  and  from  those  who  have  been 
decoyed,  snared,  trapped  into  the  life  which  is  a  living 
death.  When  you  see  a  girl  on  the  street  you  can  never 
say  without  inquiry  whether  she  is  one  of  the  most-to- 
be  condemned  or  the  most-to-be  pitied  of  her  sex.  Many 
of  them  find  themselves  where  they  are  because  of  a  too 
trusting  disposition,  confidence  born  of  innocence  being 
often  the  unsuspecting  ally  of  the  procuress  and  seducer. 
Others  are  as  much  the  innocent  victims  of  crime  as  if 
they  had  been  stabbed  or  maimed  by  the  dagger  of  the 
assassin.  The  records  of  our  Rescue  Homes  abound 
with  life  stories,  some  of  which  we  have  been  able  to 
verify  to  the  letter,  which  prove  only  too  conclusively 
the  existence  of  numbers  of  innocent  victims  whose  entry 
upon  this  dismal  life  can  in  no  way  be  attributed  to  any 
act  of  their  own  will.  Many  are  orphans  or  the  chil- 
dren of  depraved  mothers,  whose  one  idea  of  a  daughter 
is  to  make  money  out  of  her  prostitution.  Here  are  a 
few  cases  on  our  register: 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  '        67 

E.  C,  aged  i8,  a  soldier's  child,  born  on  the  sea.  Her 
father  died,  and  her  mother,  a  thoroughly  depraved 
woman,  assisted  to  secure  her  daughter's  prostitution. 

P.  S.,  aged  20,  illegitimate  child.  Went  to  consult  a 
doctor  one  time  about  some  ailment.  The  doctor  abused 
his  position  and  took  advantage  of  his  patient,  and  when 
she  complained,  gave  her  ^£"4  as  compensation.  When 
that  was  spent,  having  lost  her  character,  she  came  on 
the  town.     We  looked  the  doctor  up,  and  he  fled. 

E.  A.,  aged  17,  was  left  an  orphan  very  early  in  life, 
and  adopted  by  her  godfather,  who  himself  was  the 
means  of  her  ruin  at 'the  age  of  10. 

A  girl  in  her  teens  lived  with  her  mother  in  the  "Dust- 
hole,"  the  lowest  part  of  Woolwich.  This  woman  forced 
her  out  upon  the  streets,  and  profited  by  her  prostitu- 
tion up  to  the  very  night  of  her  confinement.  The 
mother  had  all  the  time  been  the  receiver  of  the  gains. 

E.,  neither  father  nor  mother,  was  taken  care  of  by  a 
grandmother  till,  at  an  early  age,  accounted  old  enough. 
Married  a  soldier;  but  shortly  before  the  birth  of  her  first 
child,  found  that  her  deceiver  had  a  wife  and  family  in  a 
distant  part  of  the  country,  and  she  was  soon  left 
friendless  and  alone.  She  sought  an  asylum  in  the 
Workhouse  for  a  few  weeks,  after  which  she  vainly  tried 
to  get  honest  employment.  Failing  in  that,  and  being 
on  the  very  verge  of  starvation,  she  entered  a  lodging- 
house  in  Westminster  and  "did  as  other  girls. "  Here  our 
lieutenant  found  and  persuaded  her  to  leave  and  enter 
one  of  our  Homes,  where  she  soon  gave  abundant  proof 
of  her  conversion  by  a  thoroughly  changed  life.  She  is 
now  a  faithful  and  trusted  servant  in  a  clergyman's 
family. 

A  girl  was  some  time  ago  discharged  from  a  city  hos- 
pital after  an  illness.  She  was  homeless  and  friendless, 
an  orphan,  and  obliged  to  work  for  her  living.  Walk- 
ing down  the  street  and  wondering  what  she  should  do 
next,  she  met  a  girl,  who  came  up  to  her  in  a  most 
friendly  fashion  and  speedily  won  her  confidence. 

"Discharged  ill,  and  nowhere  to  go,  are  you?"  said  her 
new  friend.  Well,  come  home  to  my  mother's;  she  will 
lodge  you,  and  we'll  go  to  work  together  when  you  are 
quite  strong.' 


68  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

The  girl  consented  gladly,  but  found  herself  conducted 
to  the  very  lowest  part  of  Woolwich  and  ushered  into  a 
brothel ;  there  was  no  mother  in  the  case.  She  was 
hoaxed,  and  powerless  to  resist.  Her  protestations  were 
too  late  to  save  her,  and  having  had  her  character  forced 
from  her  she  became  hopeless,  and  staid  on  to  live  the 
life  of  her  false  friend. 

There  is  no  need  for  me  to  go  into  the  details  of  the 
way  in  which  men  and  women,  whose  whole  livelihood 
depends  upon  their  success  in  disarming  the  suspicions 
of  their  victims  and  luring  them  to  their  doom,  contrive 
to  overcome  the  reluctance  of  the  young  girl  without 
parents,  friends,  or  helpers  to  enter  their  toils.  What 
fraud  fails  to  accomplish,  a  little  force  succeeds  in 
effecting;  and  a  girl  who  has  been  guilty  of  nothing  but 
imprudence  finds  herself  an  outcast  for  life.  The  very 
innocence  of  a  girl  tells  against  her.  A  woman  of  the 
world,  once  entrapped,  would  have  all  her  wits  about  her 
to  extricate  herself  from  the  position  in  which  she  found 
herself.  A  perfectly  virtuous  girl  is  often  so  overcome 
with  shame  and  horror  that  there  seems  nothing  in  life 
worth  struggling  for.  She  accepts  her  doom  without  fur- 
ther struggle,  and  treads  the  long  and  torturing  path- 
way of  "the  streets"  to  the  grave. 

"Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged,"  is  a  saying  that 
applies  most  appropriately  of  all  to  these  unfortunates. 
Many  of  them  would  have  escaped  their  evil  fate  had 
they  been  less  innocent.  They  are  where  they  are  be- 
cause they  loved  too  utterly  to  calculate  consequences, 
and  trusted  too  absolutely  to  dare  to  suspect  evil.  And 
others  are  there  because  of  the  false  education  which 
confounds  ignorance  with  virtue,  and  throws  our  young 
people  into  the  midst  of  a  great  city,  with  all  its  excite- 
ments and  all  its  temptations,  without  more  preparation 
or  warning  than  if  they  were  going  to  live  in  the  Garden 
pf  Eden. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT 


C9 


Whatever  sin  they  have  committed,  a  terrible  penalty  is 
exacted.  While  the  man  who  caused  their  ruin  passes 
as  a  respectable  member  of  society,  to  whom  virtuous 
matrons  gladly  marry — if  he  is  rich — their  maiden  daugh- 
ters, they  are  crushed  beneath  the  millstone  of  social  ex- 
communication. 

Here  let  me  quote  from  a  report  made  to  me  by  the 
head  of  our  Rescue  Homes  as  to  the  actual  life  of  these 
unfortunates : 

The  following  hundred  cases  are  taken  as  they  come 
from  our  Rescue  Register.  The  statements  are  those  of 
the  girls  themselves.  They  are  certainly  frank,  and  it 
will  be  noticed  that  only  two  out  of  the  hundred  allege 
that  they  took  to  the  life  out  of  poverty: 

Cause  of  Fall. 

Drink 14 

Seduction 33 

Wilful  choico 24 

Bad  company 27 

Poverty 2 


Condition  when  Applying. 

Rags  ■ 25 

Destitution 27 

Decently  dressed 48 


Out    of    these    girls    twenty-three    have  been  in  prison. 

The  girls  suffer  so  much  that  the  shortness  of  their 
miserable  life  is  the  only  redeeming  feature.  Whether 
we  look  at  the  wretchedness  of  the  life  itself;  their  per- 
petual intoxicaion;  the  cruel  treatment  to  which  they  are 
subjected  by  their  task-masters  and  mistresses  or  bullies; 
the  hopelessness,  suffering,  and  despair  induced  by  their 
circumstances  and  surroundings;  the  depths  of  misery, 
degradation,  and  poverty  to  which  they  eventually  de- 
scend; or  their  treatment  in  sickness,  their  friendless- 
ness  and  loneliness  in  death,  it  must  be  admitted  that 
a  more  dismal  lot  seldom  falls  to  the  fate  of  a  human 
being.      I  will  take  each  of  these  in  turn. 

Health. — This  1  ife  induces  insanity,  rheumatism,  con- 
sumption, and  all  forms  of  syphilis.  Rheumatism  and 
gout  are  the  commonest  of  these  evils.  Some  were  quite 
crippled  by  both — j-oung  though  they  were.  Consump- 
tion sows  its  seeds  broadcast.  The  life  is  a  hot-bed 
for  the  development  of  any  constitutional  and  hereditary 
germs  of  the  disease.      We  have  found  girls  in  Piccadilly 


70  IN   DARKEST  ENGLAND 

at  midnight  who  are  continually  prostrated  by  hemor- 
rhage, yet  who  have  no  other  way  of  life  open,  so  struggle 
on  in  this  awful  manner  between  whiles. 

Drink. — This  is  an  inevitable  part  of  the  business. 
All  confess  that  they  could  never  lead  their  miserable 
lives  if  it  were  not  for  its  influence.  A  girl  who  was 
educated  at  college  and  who  had  a  home  in  which  was 
every  comfort,  but  who  when  ruined  had  fallen  even  to 
the  depth  of  Woolwich  "Dusthole, "  exclaimed  to  us  in- 
dignantly, "Do  you  think  I  could  ever,  ever  do  this  if  it 
weren't  for  the  drink?  I  always  have  to  be  in  drink  if  I 
want  to  sin."  No  girl  has  ever  come  into  our  Homes 
fro7n  street-life  but  has  been  more  or  less  a  prey  to 
drink. 

Cruel  Treatment. — The  devotion  of  these  women  to 
their  bullies  is  as  remarkable  as  the  brutality  of  their 
bullies  is  abominable.  Probably  the  primary  cause  of 
the  fall  of  numberless  girls  of  the  lower  class  is  their 
great  aspiration  to  the  dignity  of  wifehood;  they  are 
never  "somebody"  until  they  are  married,  and  will  link 
themselves  to  any  creature  no  matter  how  debased,  in 
the  hope  of  being  ultimately  married  by  him.  This 
consideration,  in  addition  to  their  helpless  condition 
when  once  character  has  gone,  makes  them  suffer  cruel- 
ties which  they  would  never  otherwise  endure  from 
the  men  with  whom  large  numbers  of  them  live. 

One  case  in  illustration  of  this  is  that  of  a  girl  who 
was  once  a  respectable  servant,  the  daughter  of  a  police 
sergeant.  She  was  ruined,  and  shame  led  her  to  leave 
home.  At  length  she  drifted  to  Woolwich,  where  she 
came  across  a  man  who  persuaded  her  to  live  with  him, 
and  for  a  considerable  length  of  time  she  kept  him,  al- 
though his  conduct  to  her  was  brutal  in  the  extreme. 
The  girl  living  in  the  next  room  to  her  has  frequently 
heard  him  knock  her  head  against  the  wall,  and  pound 
it  when  he  was  out  of  temper,  through  her  gains  of  pros- 
titution being  less  than  usual.  He  lavished  upon  her 
every  sort  of  cruelty  and  abuse,  and  at  length  she  grew  so 
wretched  and  was  reduced  to  so  dreadful  a  plight  that 
she  ceased  to  attract.  At  this  he  became  furious  and 
pawned  all  her  clothing  but  one  thin  garment  of  rags. 
The    week  before   her   first    confinement    be    kicked  her 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  71 

black  and  blue  from  neck  to  knees,  and  she  was  carried 
to  the  police  station  in  a  pool  of  blood,  but  she  was 
so  loyal  to  the  wretch  that  she  refused  to  appear  against 
him. 

She  was  going  to  drown  herself  in  desperation,  when 
our  Rescue  Officers  spoke  to  her,  wrapped  their  own 
shawl  around  her  shivering  shoulders,  took  her  home 
with  them  and  cared  for  her.  The  baby  was  born  dead 
— a  tiny,  shapeless  mass. 

This  state  of  things  is  all  too  common. 

Hopelessness — Surroundings. — The  state  of  hopeless- 
ness and  despair  in  which  these  girls  live  continually, 
makes  them  reckless  of  consequences,  and  large  numbers 
commit  suicide  who  are  never  heard  of.  A  Wfest  End 
policeman  assured  us  that  the  number  of  prostitute 
suicides  was  terribly  in  advance  of  anything  guessed  at 
by  the  public. 

Depths  to  which  They  Sink. — There  is  scarcely  a  lower 
class  of  girls  to  be  found  than  the  girls  of  "Woolwich 
Dusthole" — where  one  of  our  Rescue  Slum  Homes  is  es- 
tablished. The  women  living  and  following  their  dread- 
ful business  in  this  neighborhood  are  so  degraded  that 
even  abandoned  men  will  refuse  to  accompany  them 
home.  Soldiers  are  forbidden  to  enter  the  place,  or  to 
go  down  the  street,  on  pain  of  twenty-five  days'  imprison- 
ment; pickets  are  stationed  at  either  end  to  prevent  this. 
The  streets  are  much  cleaner  than  many  of  the  rooms  we 
have  seen. 

One  public-house  there  is  shut  up  three  or  four  times  in 
a  day,  sometimes,  for  fear  of  losing  the  license  through  the 
terrible  brawls  which  take  place  within.  A  policeman 
never  goes  down  this  street  alone  at  night — one  having 
died  not  long  ago  from  injuries  received  there — but  our 
two  lasses  go  unharmed  and  loved  at  all  hours,  spending 
every  other  night  always  upon  the  streets. 

The  girls  sink  to  the  "Dusthole"  after  coming  down 
several  grades.  There  is  but  one  on  record  who  came 
there  with  beautiful  clothes,  and  this  poor  girl,  when  last 
seen  by  the  officers,  was  a  pauper  in  the  workhouse  in- 
firmary in  a  wretched  condition. 

The  lowest  class  of  all  is  the  girls   who    stand  at   the 


72  _  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

pier-head — these  sell  themselves  literally  for  a  bare 
crust  of  bread,  and  sleep  in  the  streets. 

Filth  and  vermin  abound  to  an  extent  to  which  no  one 
who  has  not  seen  it  can  have  any  idea. 

The  "Dusthole"  is  only  one,  alas,  of  many  similar  dis- 
tricts m  this  highly  civilized  land. 

Sickness — Friendlessness — Death. — In  hospitals  it  is 
a  known  fact  that  these  girls  are  not  treated  at  all  like 
other  cases;  they  inspire  disgust,  and  are  most  fre- 
quently discharged  before  being  really  cured. 

Scorned  by  their  relations,  and  ashamed  to  make 
their  case  known  even  to  those  who  would  help  them, 
unable  longer  to  struggle  out  on  the  streets  to  earn  the 
bread  of  shame,  there  are  girls  lying  in  many  a  dark 
hole  in  this  big  city  positively  rotting  away,  and  main- 
tained by  their  old  companions  on  the  streets. 

Many  are  totally  friendless,  utterly  cast  out  and 
left  to  perish  by  relatives  and  friends.  One  of  this 
class  came  to  us,  sickened  and  died,  and  we  buried  her, 
being  her  only  followers  to  the  grave. 

It  is  a  sad  story,  but  one  that  must  not  be  forgotten, 
for  these  women  constitute  a  large  standing  army  whose 
numbers  no  one  can  calculate.  All  estimates  that  I  have 
seem  purely  imaginary.  The  ordinary  figure  given  fof 
London  is  from  60,000  to  80,000.  This  may  be  true  if 
it  is  meant  to  include  all  habitually  unchaste  women. 
It  is  a  monstrous  exaggeration  if  it  is  meant  to  apply  to 
those  who  make  their  living  solely  and  habitually  by 
prostitution.  These  figures,  however,  only  confuse.  We 
shall  have  to  deal  with  hundreds  every  month,  whatever 
estimate  we  take.  How  utterly  unprepared  society  is 
for  any  such  systematic  reformation  may  be  .seen  from 
the  fact  that  even  now  at  our  Homes  we  are  unable  to 
take  in  all  the  girls  who  apply.  They  cannot  escape, 
even  if  they  would,  for  want  of  funds  whereby  to  provide 
them  a  way  of  release. 


CHAPTER  VII 


THE   CRIMINALS 


One  very  important  section  of  the  denizens  of  Darkest 
England  are  the  criminals  and  the  semi-criminals.  They 
are  more  or  less  predatory,  and  are  at  present  shepherded 
by  the  police  and  punished  by  the  jailer.  Their  num- 
bers cannot  be  ascertained  with  very  great  precision,  but 
the  following  figures  are  taken  from  the  prison  returns 
of  1889: 

The  criminal  classes  of  Great  Britain,  in  round  fig- 
ures, sum  up  a  total  of  no  less  than  90,000  persons, 
made    up  as  follows: 

Convict  prisons  contain ii,66o  persons. 

Local            "            "         201883 

Reformatories  for  children  convicted  of  crime 1,270 

Industrial  schools  for  vagrant  and  refractory  children. . .  21,413 

Criminal  lunatics  under  restraint 910 

Known  thieves  at  large 14, 747 

Known  receivers  of  stolen  goods 1,121 

Suspected  persons 17,042 


Total        89,006 

The  above  does  not  include  the  great  army  of  known 
prostitutes,  nor  the  keepers  and  owners  of  brothels  and 
disorderly  houses,  as  to  whose  numbers  Government  is 
rigidl}^  silent. 

These  figures  are,  however,  misleading.  They  only 
represent  the  criminals  actually  in  jail  on  a  given  day. 

The  average  jail  population  in  England  and  Wales, 
excluding  the  convict  establishments,  was,  in  1889, 
15,119;  but  the  total  number  actually  sentenced  and  im- 
prisoned in  local  prisons  was,  53,000,  of  whom  25,000 
only  came  on  iirst-term    sentences;    76,300  of   them    had 

73 


74  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

been  convicted  at  least  lo  times.  But  even  if  we  sup- 
pose that  the  criminal  class  numbers  no  more  than 
90,000,  of  whom  only  35,000  persons  are  at  large,  it  is 
still  a  large  enough  section  of  humanity  to  compel  at- 
tention; 90,000  criminals  represents  a  wreckage  whose 
cost  to  the  community  is  very  imperfectly  estimated 
when  we  add  up  the  cost  of  the  prisons,  even  if  we  add 
to  them  the  whole  cost  of  the  police.  The  police  have 
so  many  other  duties  besides  the  shepherding  of  crim- 
inals, that  it  is  unfair  to  saddle  the  latter  with  the  whole 
of  the  cost  of  the  constabulary.  The  cost  of  prosecution 
and  maintenance  of  criminals  and  the  expense  of  the 
police  involves  an  annual  outlay  of  ;£'4,437,ooo.  This, 
however,  is  small  compared  with  the  tax  and  toll  which 
this  predatory  horde  inflicts  upon  the  community  on 
which  it  is  quartered.  To  the  loss  caused  by  the  actual 
picking  and  stealing  must  be  added  that  of  the  unpro- 
ductive labor  of  nearly  65,000  adults.  Dependent  upon 
these  criminal  adults  must  be  at  least  twice  as  many 
women  and  children;  so  that  it  is  probably  an  under- 
estimate to  say  that  this  list  of  criminals  and  semi- 
criminals  represents  a  population  of  at  least  200,000, 
who  all  live  more  or  less  at  the  expense  of  society. 

Every  year,  in  the  Metropolitan  district  alone,  66,100 
persons  are  arrested,  of  whom  444  are  arrested  for  trying 
to  commit  suicide — life  having  become  too  unbearable  a 
burden.  This  immense  population  is  partially,  no  doubt, 
bred  to  prison,  the  same  as  other  people  are  bred  to  the 
army  and  to  the  bar.  The  hereditary  criminal  is  by  no 
means  confined  to  India,  although  it  is  only  in  that 
country  that  they  have  the  engaging  simplicity  to  de- 
scribe themselves  frankly  in  the  census  returns.  But  it 
is  recruited  constantly  from  the  outside.  In  many  cases 
this  is  due  to  sheer  starvation.  Fathers  of  the  Church 
have  laid  down  the  law  that  a  man  who  is  in  peril  of 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  75 

death  from  hunger  is  entitled  to  take  bread  wherever  he 
can  find  it  to  keep  body  and  soul  together.  That  propo- 
sition is  not  embodied  in  our  jurisprudence.  Absolute 
despair  drives  many  a  man  into  the  ranks  of  the  criminal 
class,  who  would  never  have  fallen  into  the  category  of 
criminal  convicts  if  adequate  provision  had  been  made^ 
for  the  rescue  of  those  drifting  to  doom.  When  once 
he  has  fallen,  circumstances  seem  to  combine  to  keep 
him  there.  As  wounded  and  sickly  stags  are  gored  to 
death  by  their  fellows,  so  the  unfortunate  vvho  bears  the 
prison  brand  is  hunted  from  pillar  to  post,  until  he  de- 
spairs of  ever  regaining  his  position,  and  oscillates 
between  one  prison  and  another  for  the  rest  of  his  days. 
I  gave  in  a  preceding  page  an  account  of  how  a  man, 
after  trying  in  vain  to  get  work,  fell  before  the  tempta- 
tion to  steal  in  order  to  escape  starvation.  Here  is  the 
sequel  of  that  man's  story.  After  he  had  stolen  he  ran 
away,  and  thus  describes  his  experiences: 

"To  fly  was  easy.  To  get  away  from  the  scene  re- 
quired very  little  ingenuity,  but  the  getting  away  from 
one  suffering  brought  another.  A  straight  look  from  a 
stranger,  a  quick  step  behind  me,  sent  a  chill  through 
ever}^  nerve.  The  cravings  of  hunger  had  been  satisfied, 
but  it  was  the  cravings  of  conscience  that  were  clamor- 
ous now.  It  was  easy  to  get  away  from  the  earthly  con- 
sequences of  sin,  but  from  the  fact — never.  And  yet  it 
was  the  compulsion  of  circumstances  that  made  me  a 
criminal.  It  was  neither  from  inward  viciousness  or 
choice,  and  how  bitterly  did  I  cast  reproach  on  society 
for  allowing  such  an  alternative  to  offer  itself — 'to  Steal 
or  Starve;'  but  there  was  another  alternative  that  here 
offered  itself — either  give  myself  up,  or  go  on  with  the 
life  of  crime.  I  chose  the  former.  I  had  traveled  over 
loo  miles  to  get  away  from  the  scene  of  my  theft,  and  I 
now  find  myself  outside  the  station-house  at  a  place 
where  I  had  put  in  my  boyhood  days. " 

"How  many  times  when  a  lad,  with  wondering  eyes, 
and  a  heart    stirred  with    childhood's  pure  sympathy,  I 


76  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

had  watched  the  poor  waifs  from  time  to  time  led  within 
its  doors.  It  was  my  turn  now.  I  entered  the  charge- 
room,  and  with  business-like  precision  disclosed  my 
errand,  viz:  that  I  wished  to  surrender  myself  for  having 
committed  a  felony.  My  story  was  doubted.  Question 
followed  question,  and  confirmation  must  be  waited. 
*Why  had  I  surrendered?'  'I  was  a  rum 'un.'  'Cracked.' 
'More  fool  than  rogue.'  'He  will  be  sorry  when  he 
mounts  the  wheel,'  These  and  such  like  remarks  were 
handed  round  concerning  me.  An  hour  passed  by.  An 
inspector  enters,  and  announces  the  receipt  of  a  tele- 
gram: 'It  is  all  right.  You  can  put  him  down.'  And 
turning  to  me,  he  said,  'They  will  send  for  you  on  Mon- 
day;' and  then  I  passed  into  the  inner  ward,  and  a  cell. 
The  door  closed  with  a  harsh,  grating  clang,  and  I  was 
left  to  face  the  most  clamorous  accuser  of  all — my  own 
interior  self. 

"Monday  morning  the  door  opened,  and  a  complacent 
detective  stood  before  me.  Who  can  tell  the  feeling  as 
the  handcuffs  closed  round  my  wrists,  and  we  started  for 
town.  As  again  the  charge  was  entered,  and  the  passing 
of  another  night  in  the  cell,  then  the  morning  of  the 
day  arrived.  The  gruff,  harsh  'Come  on!'  of  the  jailer 
roused  me,  and  the  next  moment  I  found  myself  in  the 
prison  van,  gazing  through  the  crevices  of  the  floor', 
watching  the  stones  flying  as  it  were  from  beneath  our 
feet.  Soon  the  court-house  was  reached,  and,  hustled 
into  a  common  cell,  I  found  myself  amongst  a  crowd  of 
boys  and  men,  all  bound  for  the  'dock.'  One  by  one  the 
names  are  called,  and  the  crowd  is  gradually  thinning 
down,  when  the  announcement  of  my  own  name  fell  on 
my  startled  ear,  and  I  found  m3^self  stumbling  up  the 
stairs,  and  finding  myself  in  daylight  and  the  'dock.' 
What  a  terrible  ordeal  it  was!  The  ceremony  was  brief 
enough:  'Have  you  anything  to  say?'  'Don't  interrupt 
his  Worship,  prisoner  !'  'Give  over  talking! '  'A  month's 
hard  labor.'  This  is  about  all  I  heard,  or  at  any  rate 
realized,  until  a  vigorous  push  landed  me  into  the  pres- 
ence of  the  officer  who  booked  the  sentence,  and  then  off 
I  went  to  jail.  I  need  not  linger  over  the  formalities 
of  the  reception.  A  nightmare  seemed  to  have  settled 
upon  me  as  I  passed  into  the  interior  of  the  correctional. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  77 

"I  resigned  my  name,  and  I  seemed  to  die  to  myself 
for  henceforth — 332  B  disclosed  my  identity  to  myself 
and  others. 

"Through  all  the  weeks  that  followed  I  was  like  one 
m  a  dream.  Meal-times,  resting  hours,  as  did  every 
other  thing,  came  with  clock-like  precision.  At  times  I 
thought  my  mind  had  gone— so  dull,  so  callous,  so  weary 
appeared  the  organs  of  the  brain.  The  harsh  orders  of 
the  jailers;  the  droning  of  the  chaplain  in  the  chapel; 
the  inquiries  of  the  chief  warder  or  the  governor  in  their 
periodical  visits — all  seemed  so  meaningless. 

"As  the  day  of  my  liberation  drew  near,  the  horrid  con- 
viction that  circumstances  would  perhaps  compel  me  to 
return  to  prison  haunted  me,  and  so  helpless  did  I  feel 
at  the  prospects  that  awaited  me  outside,  that  I  dreaded 
release,  which  seemed  but  the  facing  of  an  unsympa- 
thetic world.  The  day  arrived,  and,  strange  as  it  may 
sound,  it  was  with  regret  that  I  left  my  cell.  It  had 
become  my  home,  and  no  home  waited  me  outside. 

"How  utterly  crushed  I  felt;  feelings  of  companionship 
had  gone  out  to  my  unfortunate  fellow-prisoners,  whom 
I  had  seen  daily,  but  the  sound  of  whose  voices  I  had 
never  heard,  whilst  outside  friendships  were  dead,  and 
companionships  were  forever  broken,  and  I  felt  as  an 
outcast  of  society,  with  the  mark  of  'jail-bird'  upon 
me,  that  I  must  cover  my  face,  and  stand  aside  and  cry 
'unclean.'     Such  were  my  feelings. 

"The  morning  of  discharge  came,  and  I  am  once  more 
on  the  streets,  my  scanty  means  scarcely  sufHcient  tor 
two  days'  least  needs.  Could  I  brace  myself  to  make 
another  honest  endeavor  to  start  afresh?  Try,  indeed,  I 
did.  I  fell  back  upon  my  antecedents,  and  tried  to  cut 
the  dark  passage  out  of  my  life,  but  straight  came  the 
questions  to  me  at  each  application  for  employment, 
'What  have  you  been  doing  lately?'  'Where  have  you 
been  living?'  If  I  evaded  the  question  it  caused  doubt; 
if  I  answered,  the  only  answer  I  could  give  was  'in 
jail,'    and  that  settled  my  chances. 

"What  a  comedy,  after  all,  it  appeared!  I  remember 
the  last  words  of  the  chaplain  before  leaving  the  prison, 
cold  and  precise  in  their  officialism:  'Mind  you  never 
come  back  here  again,  young  man.'    And  now,  as  though 


78  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

in  response  to  my  earnest  effort  to  keep  from  going  to 
prison,  society,  by  its  actions,  cried  out,  'Go  back  to 
jail.  There  are  honest  men  enough  to  do  our  work  with- 
out such  as  you/ 

"Imagine,  if  you  can,  my  condition.  At  the  end  of  a 
few  days,  black  despair  had  wrapped  itself  around  every 
faculty  of  mind  and  body.  Then  followed  several  days 
and  nights  with  scarcely  a  bit  of  food  or  a  resting- 
place.  I  prowled  the  streets  like  a  dog,  with  this  differ- 
ence, that  the  dog.  has  the  chance  of  helping  himself, 
and  I  had  not.  I  tried  to  forecast  how  long  starvation's 
fingers  would  be  in  closing  round  the  throat  they  already 
gripped;  so  indifferent  was  I  alike  to  man  or  God,  as  I 
waited  for  the  end." 

In  this  dire  extremity  the  writer  found  his  way  to  one 
of  our  Shelters,  and  there  found  God  and  friends  and 
hope,  and  once  more  got  his  feet  on  to  the  ladder  which 
leads  upward  from  the  black  gulf  of  starvation  to  compe- 
tence and  character,  and  usefulness  and  heaven. 

As  he  was  then,  however,  there  are  hundreds — nay, 
thousands — now.  Who  will  give  these  men  a  helping 
hand?  What  is  to  be  done  with  them?  Would  it  not  be 
more  merciful  to  kill  them  off  at  once  instead  of  sternly 
crushing  them  out  of  all  semblance  of  honest  manhood? 
Society  recoils  from  such  a  short  cut.  Her  virtuous 
scruples  reminds  me  of  the  subterfuge  by  which  English 
law  evaded  the  veto  on  torture.  Torture  was  forbidden, 
but  the  custom  of  placing  an  obstinate  witness  under  a 
press  and  slowly  crushing  him  within  a  hairbreadth  of 
death  was  legalized  and  practiced.  So  it  is  to-day. 
When  the  criminal  comes  out  of  jail  the  whole  world  is 
often  but  a  press  whose  punishment  is  sharp  and  cruel 
indeed.  Nor  can  the  victim  escape  even  if  he  opens  his 
mouth  and  speaks. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    CHILDREN    OF    THE    LOST 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  possibility  of  doing 
anything  with  the  adults,  it  is  universally  admitted 
that  there  is  hope  for  the  children.  "1  regard  the  exist- 
ing generation  as  lost,"  said  a  leading  Liberal  states- 
man. "Nothing  can  be  done  with  men  and  women  who 
have  grown  up  under  the  present  demoralizing  condi- 
tions. My  only  hope  is  that  the  children  may  have  a 
better  chance.  Education  will  do  much."  But  unfor- 
tunately the  demoralizing  circumstances  of  the  children 
are  not  being  improved — are,  indeed,  rather,  in  many 
respects,  being  made  worse.  The  deterioration  of  our 
population  in  large  towns  is  one  of  the  most  undisputed 
facts  of  social  economics.  The  country  is  the  breeding- 
ground  of  healthy  citizens.  But  for  the  constant  influx 
of  Countrydom,  Cockneydom  would  long  ere  this  have 
perished.  But  unfortunately  the  country  is  being 
depopulated.  The  towns,  London  especially,  are  being 
gorged  with  undigested  and  indigestible  masses  of  labor, 
and,  as  the    result,  the   children   suffer    grievously. 

The  town-bred  child  is  at  a  thousand  disadvantages 
compared  with  his  cousin  in  the  country.  But  every 
year  there  are  more  town-bred  children  and  fewer  cousins 
in  the  country.  To  rear  healthy  children  you  want  first 
a  home;  secondly,  milk;  thirdly,  fresh  air;  and  fourthly, 
exercise  under  the  green  trees  and  blue  sky.  All  these 
things  every  country  laborer's  child    possesses,  or    used 

79 


80  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

to  possess;  for  the  shadow  of  the  City  life  lies  now 
upon  the  fields,  and  even  in  the  remotest  rural  district  the 
laborer  who  tends  the  cows  is  often  denied  the  milk 
which  his  children  need.  The  regular  demand  of  the 
great  towns  forestalls  the  claims  of  the  laboring 
kind. 

Tea  and  slops  and  beer  take  the  place  of  milk,  and  the 
bone  and  sinew  of  the  next  generation  are  sapped  from 
the  cradle.  But  the  country  child,  if  he  has  nothing  but 
skim  milk,  and  only  a  little  of  that,  has  at  least  plenty 
of  exercise  in  the  fresh  air.  He  has  healthy  human  re- 
lations with  his  neighbors.  He  is  looked  after,  and  in 
some  sort  of  fashion  brought  into  contact  with  the  life 
of  the  hall,  the  vicarage,  and  the  farm.  He  lives  a 
natural  life  amid  the  birds  and  trees  and  growing  crops 
and  the  animals  of  the  fields.  He  is  not  a  mere  human 
ant,  crawling  on  the  granite  pavement  of  a  great  urban 
ants'  nest,  with  an  unnaturally  developed  nervous  system 
and  a  sickly  constitution. 

But,  it  will  be  said,  the  child  of  to-day  has  the  ines- 
timable advantage  of  Education.  No;  he  has  not.  Ed- 
ucated the  children  are  not.  They  are  pressed  through 
"standards,"  which  exact  a  certain  acquaintance  with  A  B 
C  and  pothooks  and  figures;  but  educated  they  are  not  in 
the  sense  of  the  development  of  their  latent  capacities 
so  as  to  make  them  capable  for  the  discharge  of  their 
duties  in  life.  The  new  generation  can  read,  no  doubt; 
otherwise,  where  would  be  the  sale  of  "Sixteen-String 
Jack,"  "Dick  Turpin,"  and  the  like?  But  take  the  girls. 
Who  can  pretend  that  the  girls  whom  our  schools  are 
now  turning  out  are  half  as  well  educated  for  the  work 
of  life  as  their  grandmothers  were  at  the  same  age? 
How  many  of  all  these  mothers  of  the  future  know  how 
to  bake  a  loaf  or  wash  their  clothes?  Except  minding 
the    baby — a  task  that  cannot  be  evaded — what  domestic 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  81 

training  have  they  received  to  qualify  them  for  being  in 
the  future  the  mothers  of  babies  themselves? 

And  even  the  schooling,  such  as  it  is,  at  what  an  ex- 
pense is  it  often  imparted!  The  rakings  of  the  human 
cesspool  are  brought  into  the  school-room  and  mixed  up 
with  your  children.  Your  little  ones,  who  never  heard  a 
loul  word  and  who  are  not  only  innocent,  but  ignorant, 
of  all  the  horrors  of  vice  and  sin,  sit  for  hours  side  by 
side  with  little  ones  whose  parents  are  habitually 
drunk,  and  play  with  others  whose  ideas  of  merriment 
are  gained  from  the  familiar  spectacle  of  the  nightly  de- 
bauch by  which  their  mothers  earn  the  family  bread.  It 
is  good,  no  doubt,  to  learn  the  ABC,  but  it  is  not  so  good 
that  in  acquiring  these  indispensable  rudiments,  your 
children  should  also  acquire  the  vocabulary  of  the  harlot 
and  the  corner  boy.  I  speak  only  of  what  I  know,  and  of 
that  which  has  been  brought  home  to  me  as  a  matter  of 
repeated  complaint  by  my  Officers,  when  I  say  that  the 
obscenity  of  the  talk  of  many  of  the  ch-ildren  of  some  of 
our  public  schools  could  hardly  be  outdone  even  in  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah.  Childish  innocence  is  very  beautiful ;  but 
the  bloom  is  soon  destroyed,  and  it  is  a  cruel  awakening 
for  a  mother  to  discover  that  her  tenderly  nurtured  boy, 
or  her  carefully  guarded  daughter,  has  been  initiated  by 
a  companion  into  the  mysteries  of  abomination  that  are 
concealed  in  the  phrase — a  house  of  ill-fame. 

The  home  is  largely  destroyed  where  the  mother  fol- 
lows the  father  into  the  factory,  and  where  the  hours  of 
labor  are  so  long  that  they  have  no  time  to  see  their 
children.  The  omnibus  drivers  of  London,  for  instance, 
what  time  have  they  for  discharging  the  daily  duties  of 
parentage  to  their  little  ones?  How  can  a  man  who  is 
on  his  omnibus  from  fourteen  to  sixteen  hours  a  day 
have  time  to  be  a  father  to  his  children  in  any  sense  of 
the  word?  He  has  hardly  a  chance  to  see  them  except 
6 


82  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

when  they  are  asleep.  Even  a  Sabbath,  that  blessed  in- 
stitution which  is  one  of  the  sheet  anchors  of  human  ex- 
istence, is  encroached  upon.  Many  of  the  new  industries 
which  have  been  started  or  developed  since  I  was  a  boy 
ignore  man's  need  of  one  day's  rest  in  seven.  The  rail- 
way, the  post-office,  the  tramway  all  compel  some  of 
their  employes  to  be  content  with  less  than  the  divinely 
appointed  minimum  of  leisure.  In  the  country  darkness 
restores  the  laboring  father  to  his  little  ones.  In  the 
town  gas  and  the  electric  light  enables  the  employer  to 
rob  the  children  of  the  whole  of  their  father's  waking 
hours,  and  in  some  cases  he  takes  the  mother's  also. 
Under  some  of  the  conditions  of  modern  industry,  chil- 
dren are  not  so  much  born  into  a  home  as  they  are 
spawned  into  the  world  like  fish,  with  the  results  which 
we  see. 

The  decline  of  natural  affection  follows  inevitably  from 
the  substitution  of  the  fish  relationship  for  that  of  the 
human.  A  father  who  never  dandles  his  child  on  his 
knee  cannot  have  a  very  keen  sense  of  the  responsibili- 
ties of  paternity.  In  the  rush  and  pressure  of  our  com- 
petitive City  life,  thousands  of  men  have  not  time  to 
be  fathers.  Sires,  yes;  fathers,  no.  It  will  take  a  good 
deal  of  schoolmaster  to  make  up  for  that  change.  If 
this  be  the  case,  even  with  the  children  constantly  em- 
ployed, it  can  be  imagined  what  kind  of  a  home  life  is  pos- 
sessed by  the  children  of  the  tramp,  the  odd  jobber,  the 
thief,  and  the  harlot.  For  all  these  people  have  chil- 
dren, although  they  have  no  homes  in  which  to  rear  them. 
Not  a  bird  in  all  the  woods  or  fields  but  prepares  some 
kind  of  a  nest  in  which  to  hatch  and  rear  its  young,  even 
if  it  be  but  a  hole  in  the  sand  or  a  few  crossed  sticks 
in  the  bush.  But  how  many  young  ones  amongst  our 
people  are  hatched  before  any  nest  is  ready  to  receive 
them? 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  83 

Think  of  the  multitudes  of  children  born  in  our  work- 
houses, children  of  whom  it  may  be  said  "they  are  con- 
ceived in  sin  and  shapen  in  iniquity,"  and,  as  a  punish- 
ment of  the  sins  of  the  parents,  branded  from  birth  as 
bastards,  worse  than  fatherless,  homeless,  and  friendless, 
"damned  into  an  evil  world,"  in  which  even  those  who 
have  all  the  advantages  of  a  good  parentage  and  a  care- 
ful training  find  it  hard  enough  to  make  their  way. 
Sometimes,  it  is  true,  the  passionate  love  of  the  deserted 
mother  for  the  child  which  has  been  the  visible  symbol 
and  the  terrible  result  of  her  undoing  stands  between 
the  little  one  and  all  its  enemies.  But  think  how  often 
the  mother  regards  the  advent  of  her  child  with  loathing 
and  horror;  how  the  discovery  that  she  is  about  to  be- 
come a  mother  affects  her  like  a  nightmare;  and  how 
nothing  but  the  dread  of  the  hangman's  rope  keeps  her 
from  strangling  the  babe  on  the  very  hour  of  its  birth. 
What  chances  has  such  a  child?   And  there  are  many  such. 

In  a  certain  country  that  I  will  not  name  there  exists 
a  scientifically  arranged  system  of  infanticide  cloaked 
under  the  garb  of  philanthropy.  Gigantic  foundling 
establishments  exist  in  its  principal  cities,  where  every 
comfort  and  scientific  improvement  is  provided  for  the 
deserted  children,  with  the  result  that  one-half  of  them 
die.  The  mothers  are  spared  the  crime.  The  State 
assumes  the  responsibility.  We  do  something  like  that 
here,  but  our  foundling  asylums  are  the  Street,  the 
Workhouse,  and  the  Grave.  When  an  English  Judge 
tells  us,  as  Mr.  Justice  Wills  did  the  other  day,  that 
there  were  any  number  of  parents  who  would  kill  their 
children  for  a  few  pounds'  insurance  money,  we  can  form 
some  idea  of  the  horrors  of  the  existence  into  which 
many  of  the  children  of  this  highly  favored  land  are 
ushered  at  their  birth. 

The  overcrowded  homes  of  the  poor  compels  the  chil- 


84  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

dren  to  witness  everything.  Sexual  morality  often  comes 
to  have  no  meaning  to  them.  Incest  is  so  familiar  as 
hardly  to  call  for  remark.  The  bitter  poverty  of  the 
poor  compels  them  to  leave  their  children  half  fed. 
There  are  few  more  grotesque  pictures  in  the  history  of 
civilization  than  that  of  the  compulsory  attendance  of 
children  at  school,  faint  with  hunger  because  they  had 
no  breakfast,  and  not  sure  whether  they  would  even  secure 
a  dry  crust  for  dinner  when  their  morning's  quantum  of 
education  had  been  duly  imparted.  Children  thus  hun- 
gered, thus  housed,  and  thus  left  to  grow  up  as  best 
they  can  without  being  fathered  or  mothered,  are  not, 
educate  them  as  you  will,  exactly  the  most  promising  ma- 
terial for  the  making  of  the  future  citizens  and  rulers  of 
the  Empire. 

What,  then,  is  the  ground  for  hope  that  if  we  leave 
things  alone  the  new  generation  will  be  better  than  their 
elders?  To  me  it  seems  that  the  truth  is  rather  the  other 
way.  The  lawlessness  of  our  lads,  the  increased  license 
of  our  girls,  the  general  shiftlessness  from  the  home- 
making  point  of  view  of  the  product  of  our  factories  and 
schools,  are  far  from  reassuring.  Our  young  people  have 
never  learned  to  obey.  The  fighting  gangs  of  hal-f  grown 
lads  in  Lisson  Grove,  and  the  scuttlers  of  Manchester, 
are  ugly  symptoms  of  a  social  condition  that  will  not 
grow  better  by  being  left  alone. 

It  is  the  home  that  has  been  destroyed,  and  with  the 
home  the  home-like  virtues.  It  is  the  dis-homed  multi- 
tude, nomadic,  hungry,  that  is  rearing  an  undisciplined 
population,  cursed  from  birth  with  hereditary  weakness 
of  body  and  hereditary  faults  of  character.  It  is  idle  to 
hope  to  mend  matters  by  taking  the  children  and  bun- 
dling them  up  in  barracks.  A  child  brought  up  in  an  in- 
stitution is  too  often  only  half-human,  having  never 
known  a  mother's  love  and  a  father's  care.     To  men  and 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  .  85 

women  who  are  without  homes,  children  must  be  more 
or  less  of  an  incumbrance.  Their  advent  is  regarded 
with  impatience,  and  often  it  is  averted  by  crime. 
The  unwelcome  little  stranger  is  badly  cared  for,  badly 
fed,  and  allowed  every  chance  to  die.  Nothing  is  worth 
doing  to  increase  his  chances  of  living  that  does  not 
Reconstitute  the  Home.  But  between  us  and  that  ideal 
how  vast  is  the  gulf  !  It  will  have  to  be  bridged,  how- 
ever, if  anything  practical  is  to  be  done. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IS   THERE   NO   HELP? 

It  may  be  said  by  those  who  have  followed  me  to  this 
point,  that  while  it  is  quite  true  that  there  are  many 
who  are  out  of  work,  and  not  less  true  that  there  are 
many  who  sleep  on  the  Embankment  and  elsewhere,  the 
law  has  provided  a  remedy,  or  if  not  a  remedy,  at  least 
a  method,  of  dealing  with  these  sufferers  which  is  suffi- 
cient. The  Secretary  of  the  Charity  Organization  Society 
assured  one  of  my  Officers,  who  went  to  inquire  for  his 
opinion  on  the  subject,  "that  no  further  machinery  was 
necessary.  All  that  was  needed  in  this  direction  they 
already  had  in  working  order,  and  to  create  any  further 
machinery  would  do  more  harm  than  good." 

Now,  what  is  the  existing  machinery  by  which  Society, 
whether  through  the  organization  of  the  State  or  by  in- 
dividual endeavor,  attempts  to  deal  with  the  submerged 
residuum?  I  had  intended  at  one  time  to  have  devoted 
considerable  space  to  the  description  of  the  existing 
agencies,  together  with  certain  observations  which  have 
been  forcibly  impressed  upon  my  mind  as  to  their  fail- 
ure and  its  cause.  The  necessity,  hovv^ever,  of  subordi- 
nating everything  to  the  supreme  purpose  of  this  book, 
which  is  to  endeavor  to  show  how  light  can  be  let  into 
the  heart  of  Darkest  England,  compels  me  to  pass  rapidly 
over  this  "-department  of  the  subject,  merely  glancing 
as  I  go  at  the  well-meaning,  but  more  or  less  abortive, 
attempts  to  cope  with  this  great  and  appalling  evil. 

86 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  87 

The  first  place  must  naturally  be  given  to  the  admin- 
istration of  the  Poor  Law.  Legally  the  State  accepts 
the  responsibility  of  providing  food  and  shelter  for  every 
man,  woman,  or  child  who  is  utterly  destitute.  This 
responsibility  it,  however,  practically  shirks  by  the  im- 
position of  conditions  on  the  claimants  of  relief  that  are 
hateful  and  repulsive,  if  not  impossible.  As  to  the 
method  of  Poor  Law  administration  in  dealing  with  in- 
mates of  workhouses  or  in  the  distribution  of  outdoor 
relief,  I  say  nothing.  Both  of  these  raise  great  questions 
which  lie  .  outside  my  immediate  purpose.  All  that  I 
need  to  do  is  to  indicate  the  limitations — it  may  be  the 
necessary  limitations — under  which  the  Poor  Law  oper- 
ates. No  Englishman  can  come  upon  the  rates  so  long 
as  he  has  anything  whatever  left  to  call  his  own.  When 
long-continued  destitution  has  been  carried  on  to  the 
bitter  end,  when  piece  by  piece  every  article  of  domestic 
furniture  has  been  sold  or  pawned,  when  all  efforts  to 
procure  employment  have  failed,  and  when  you  have 
nothing  left  except  the  clothes  in  which  you  stand,  then 
you  can  present  yourself  before  the  relieving  officer  and 
secure  your  lodging  in  the  workhouse,  the  administration 
of  which  varies  infinitely  according  to  the  disposition 
of  the  Board  of  Guardians  under  whose  control  it  happens 
to  be. 

If,  however,  you  have  not  sunk  to  such  despair  as  to 
be  willing  to  barter  your  liberty  for  the  sake  of  food, 
clothing,  and  shelter  in  the  Workhouse,  but  are  only 
temporarily  out  of  employment,  seeking  work,  then  you 
go  to  the  Casual  Ward.  There  you  are  taken  in,  and 
provided  for  on  the  principle  of  making  it  as  disagreeable 
as  possible  for  yourself,  in  order  to  deter  you  from  again 
accepting  the  hospitality  of  the  rates — and  of  course  in 
defense  of  this  a  good  deal  can  said  by  the  Political 
Economist.     But  what  seems  utterly  indefensible    is  the 


88  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

careful  precautions  which  are  taken  to  render  it  impos- 
sible for  the  unemployed  Casual  to  resume  promptly  after 
his  night's  rest  the  search  for  work.  Under  the  existing 
regulations,  if  you  are  compelled  to  seek  refuge  on 
Monday  night  in  the  Casual  Ward,  you  are  bound  to 
remain  there  at  least  till  Wednesday  morning. 

The  theory  of  the  system  is  this,  that  individuals 
casually  poor  and  out  of  work,  being  destitute  and  with- 
out shelter,  may  upon  application  receive  shelter  for  the 
night,  supper,  and  a  breakfast,  and  in  return  for  this, 
shall  perform  a  task  of  work,  not  necessarily  in  repay- 
ment for  the  relief  received,  but  simply  as  a  test  of  their 
willingness  to  work  for  their  living.  The  work  given  is 
the  same  as  that  given  to  felons  in  jail — oakum-picking 
and  stone-breaking. 

The  work,  too,  is  excessive  in  proportion  to  what  is 
received.  Four  pounds  of  oakum  is  a  great  task  to  an 
expert  and  an  old  hand.  To  a  novice  it  can  only  be  ac- 
complished with  the  greatest  difficulty,  if  indeed  it  can 
be  done  at  all.  It  is  even  in  excess  of  the  amount  de- 
manded from  a  criminal  in  jail.  The  stone-breaking 
test  is  monstrous.  Half  a  ton  of  stone  from  any  man  in 
return  for  partially  supplying  the  cravings  of  hunger  is 
an  outrage  which,  if  we  read  of  as  having  occurred  in 
Russia  or  Siberia,  would  find  Exeter  Hall  crowded  with 
an  indignant  audience,  and  Hyde  Park  filled  with  strong 
oratory.  But  because  this  system  exists  at  our  own 
doors,  very  little  notice  is  taken  of  it.  These  tasks  are 
expected  from  all  comers,  starved,  ill-clad,  half-fed 
creatures  from  the  streets,  foot-sore  and  worn  out,  and 
yet  unless  it  is  done,  the  alternative  is  the  magistrate 
and  the  jail.  The  old  system  was  bad  enough,  which 
demanded  the  picking  of  one  pound  of  oakum.  As  soon 
as  this  task  was  accomplished,  which  generally  kept 
them  till  the  middle  of    next  day,  it  was  thus  rendered 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  89 

impossible  for  them  to  seek  work,  and  they  were  forced 
to  spend  another  night  in  the  ward.  The  Local  Govern- 
ment Board,  however,  stepped  in,  and  the  Casual  was 
ordered  to  be  detained  for  the  whole  day  and  the  second 
night,  the  amount  of  labor  required  from  him  being 
increased  four-fold. 

Under  the  present  system,  therefore,  the  penalty  for 
seeking  sh-elter  from  the  streets  is  a  whole  day  and  two 
nights,  with  an  almost  impossible  task,  which  failing  to 
do,  the  victim  is  liable  to  be  dragged  before  a  magis- 
trate and  committed  to  jail  as  a  rogue  and  vagabond, 
while  in  the  Casual  Ward  their  treatment  is  practically 
that  of  a  criminal.  They  sleep  in  a  cell  with  an  apart- 
ment at  the  back,  in  which  the  work  is  done,  receiving 
at  night  half  a  pound  of  gruel  and  eight  ounces  of  bread, 
and  next  morning  the  same  for  breakfast,  with  half  a 
pound  of  oakum  and  stones  to  occupy  himself  for  a  day. 

The  beds  are  mostly  of  the  plank  type,  the  coverings 
scant,  the  comfort  nil.  Be  it  remembered  that  this  is 
the  treatment  meted  out  to  those  who  are  supposed  to  be 
Casual  poor,  in  temporary  difficulty,  walking  from  place 
to  place  seeking  some  employment. 

The  treatment  of  the  women  is  as  follows:  Each 
Casual  has  to  stay  in  the  Casual  Wards  two  nights  and 
one  day,  during  which  time  they  have  to  pick  2  lbs.  of 
oakum  or  go  to  the  wash-tub  and  work  out  the  time  there. 
While  at  the  wash-tub  they  are  allowed  to  wash  their 
own  clothes,  but  not  otherwise.  If  seen  more  than  once 
in  the  same  Casual  Ward,  they  are  detained  three  days 
by  order  of  the  inspector,  each  time  seen,  or  if  sleeping 
twice  in  the  same  month,  the  master  of  the  ward  has 
power  to  detain  them  three  days.  There  are  four 
inspectors  who  visit  different  Casual  Wards;  and  if  the 
Casual  is  seen  by  any  of  the  inspectors  (who  in  turn 
visit    all    the    Casual    Wards)    at    any  of  the  wards  they 


90  ■  IN  DARKEST  E-NGLAND 

have  previously  visited,  they  are  detained  three  days  in 
each  one.  The  inspector,  who  is  a  male  person,  visits 
the  wards  at  all  unexpected  hours,  even  visiting  while 
the  females  are  in  bed.  The  beds  are  in  some  wards 
eomposed  of  straw  and  two  rugs,  in  others  cocoanut  fibre 
and  two  rugs.  The  Casuals  rise  at  5.45  a.  m.  and  go  to 
bed  at  7  p.  m.  If  they  do  not  fini3h  picking  their 
oakum  before  7  p.  m.,  they  stay  up  till  they  do.  If  a 
Casual  does  not  come  to  the  ward  before  12.30,  mid- 
night, they  keep  them  one  day  e-xtra.  The  way  in  which 
this  operates,  however,  can  be  best  understood  by  the 
following  statements,  made  by  those  who  have  been  in 
Casual  Wards,  and  who  can,  therefore,  speak  from 
experience  as  to  how  the  system  affects  the  individual:. 

J.  C.  knows  Casual  Wards  pretty  well.  Has  been 
in  St.  Giles,  Whitechapel,  St.  George's,  Paddington, 
Marylebone,  Mile  End.  They  vary  a  little  in  detail, 
but  as  a  rule  the  doors  open  at  6;  you  walk  in;  they  tell 
you  what  the  work  is,  and  that  if  you  fail  to  do  it,  you 
will  be  liable  to  imprisonment.  Then  you  bathe.  Some 
places  the  water  is  dirty.  Three  persons  as  a  rule  wash 
in  one  water.  At  Whitechapel  (been  there  three  times) 
it  has  always  been  dirty;  also  at  St.  George's.  I  had 
no  bath  at  Mile  End;  they  were  short  of  water.  If  you 
complain  they  take  no  notice.  You  then  tie  your 
clothes  in  a  bundle,  and  they  give  you  a  nightshirt.  At 
most  places  they  serve  supper  to  the  men,  who  have  to 
go  to  bed  and  eat  it  there.  Some  beds  are  in  cells; 
some  in  large  rooms.  You  get  up  at  6  a.  m.  and  do  the 
task.  The  amount  of  stone-breaking  is  too  much;  and 
the  oakum-picking  is  also  heavy.  The  food  differs.  At 
St.  Giles,  the  gruel  left  over-night  is  boiled  up  for 
breakfast,  and  is  consequently  sour;  the  bread  is  puffy, 
full  of  holes,  and  don't  weigh  the  regulation  amount. 
Dinner  is  only  8  ounces  of  bread  and  i^  ounces  of 
cheese,  and  if  that's  short,  how  can  anybody  do  their 
work?  They  will  give  you  water  to  drink  if  you  ring 
the  cell  bell  for  it — that  is,  they  will  tell  you  to  wait, 
and  bring  it  in    about  half  an    hour.     There    are  a  good 


AND  THE  WAY  OtJt  01 

lot  of    "moochers"  go  to  Casual    Wards,  but    there    are 
large  numbers  of  men  who  only  want  work. 

J.  D.  ;  age  25;  Londoner;  can't  get  work,  tried  hard; 
leen  refused  work  several  times  on  account  of  having  no 
settled  residence;  looks  suspicious,  they  think,  to  have 
"no  home."  Seems  a  decent,  willing  man.  Had  two 
pennyworth  of  soup  this  morning,  which  has  lasted  all 
day.  Earned  is.  6d.  yesterday,  bill  distributing;  noth- 
ing the  day  before.  Been  in  good  many  London  Casual 
Wards.  Thinks  they  are  no  good,  because  they  keep 
him  all  day,  when  he  might  be  seeking  work.  Don't 
want  shelter  in  day-time,  wants  work.  If  he  goes  in 
twice  in  a  month  to  the  same  Casual  Ward,  the}  detain 
him  four  days.  Considers  the  food  decidedly  insuffi- 
cient to  do  the  required  amount  of  work.  If  the  work 
is  not  done  to  time  you  are  liable  to  21  days'  imprison- 
ment. Get  badly  treated  some  places,  especially  where 
there  is  a  bullying  superintendent.  Has  done  21  days 
for  absolutely  refusing  to  do  the  work  on  such  low  diet, 
when  unfit.  Can't  get  justice,  doctor  always  sides  with 
superintendent. 

J.  S.  ;  odd  jobber.  Is  working  at  board-carrying,  when 
he  can  get  it.  There's  quite  a  rush  for  it  at  is.  2d.  a 
day.  Carried  a  couple  of  parcels  yesterday,  got  5d.  for 
them;  also  had  a  bit  of  bread  and  meat  given  him  by  a 
working-man,  so  altogether  had  an  excellent  day.  Some- 
times goes  all  day  without  food,  and  plenty  more  do  the 
same.  Sleeps  on  Embankment,  and  now  and  then  in 
Casual  Waid.  Latter  is  clean  and  comfortable  enough, 
but  they  keep  you  in  all  day;  that  means  no  chance  of 
getting  work.  Was  a  clerk  once,  but  got  out  of  a  job,  and 
couldn't  ^^t  another;   there  are  so  many  clerks. 

*'A  Tramp"  says:  "I've  been  in  most  Casual  Wards  in 
London;  was  in  the  one  in  Macklin  Street,  Drury  Lane, 
last  week.  They  keep  you  two  nights  and  a  day,  and 
more  than  that  if  they  recognize  you.  You  have  to  break 
10  cwt.  of  stone,  or  pick  four  ounces  of  oakum.  Both 
are  hard.  About  thirty  a  night  go  to  Macklin  Street. 
The  food  is  i  pint  gruel  and  6  oz.  bread  for  break- 
fast; 8  oz.  bread  and  i}^  oz.  cheese  for  dinner;  tea  same 
as   breakfast.     No   supper.      It    is  not  enough  to  do  the 


92  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

work  on.  Then  you  are  obliged  to  bathe,  of  course; 
sometimes  three  will  bathe  in  one  water,  and  if  you  com- 
plain they  turn  nasty,  and  ask  if  you  are  come  to  a 
palace.  Mitcham  Workhouse  I've  been  in  ;  grub  is  good  ; 
i^  pint  gruel  and  8  oz.  bread  for  breakfast,  and  same 
for  supper." 

F.  K.  W. ;  baker.  Been  board-carrying  to-day,  earned 
one  shilling;  hours  9  till  5.  I've  been  on  this  kind  of 
life  six  years.  Used  to  work  in  a  bakery,  but  had  con- 
gestion of  the  brain,  and  couldn't  stand  the  heat.  I've 
been  in  about  every  Casual  Ward  in  England.  They 
treat  men  too  harshly.  Have  to  work  very  hard,  too. 
Has  had  to  work  whilst  really  unfit.  At  Peckham 
(known  as  Camberwell)  Union,  was  quite  unable  to  do 
it  through  weakness,  and  appealed  to  the  doctor,  who, 
taking  the  part  of  the  other  officials,  as  usual,  refused 
to  allow  him  to  forego  the  work.  Cheeked  the  doctor, 
telling  him  he  didn't  understand  his  work;  result,  got 
three  days'  imprisonm.ent.  Before  going  to  a  Casual 
Ward  at  all,  I  spent  seven  consecutive  nights  on  the 
Embankment,  and  at  last  went  to  the  ward. 

The  result  of  the  deliberate  policy  of  making  the 
night  refuge  for  the  unemployed  laborer  as  disagreeable 
as  possible,  and  of  placing  as  many  obstacles  as  possible 
in  the  way  of  his  finding  work  the  following  day,  is,  no 
doubt,  to  minimize  the  number  of  Casuals,  and  without 
question  succeeds.  In  the  whole  of  London  the  number 
of  Casuals  in  the  Wards  at  night  is  only  1,136.  That 
is  to  say,  the  conditions  which  are  imposed  are  so 
severe,  that  the  majority  of  the  Out-of-Works  prefer  to 
sleep  in  the  open  air,  taking  their  chance  of  the  inclemency 
and  mutability  of  our  English  weather,  rather  than  go 
through  the  experience  of  the  Casual  Ward. 

It  seems  to  me  that  such  a  mode  of  coping  with  dis- 
tress does  not  so  much  meet  the  difficulty  as  evade  it. 
It  is  obvious  that  an  apparatus  which  only  provides  for 
1,136  persons  per  night  is  utterly  unable  to  deal  with 
the  numbers  of  the  homeless  Out-of-Works.      But  if  by 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  93 

some  miracle  we  could  use  the  Casual  Wards  as  a  means 
of  providing  for  all  those  who  are  seeking  work  from 
day  to  day,  without  a  place  in  which  to  lay  their  heads, 
save  the  curbstone  of  the  pavement  or  the  back  of  a  seat 
on  the  Embankment,  they  would  utterly  fail  to  have  any 
appreciable  effect  upon  the  mass  of  human  misery  with 
which  we  have  to  deal;  for  this  reason:  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  Casual  Wards  is  mechanical,  perfunctory, 
and  formal.  Each  of  the  Casuals  is  to  the  Officer  in 
Charge  merely  one  Casual  the  more.  There  is  no 
attempt  whatever  to  do  more  than  provide  for  them 
merely  the  indispensable  requisites  of  existence.  There 
has  never  been  any  attempt  to  treat  them  as  human 
beings,  to  deal  with  them  as  individuals,  to  appeal  to 
their  hearts,  to  help  them  on  their  legs  again.  They 
are  simply  units,  no  more  thought  of  and  cared  for  than 
if  they  were  so  many  coffee-beans  passing  through  a 
coffee-mill;  and  as  the  net  result  of  all  my  experience 
and  observation  of  men  and  things,  I  must  assert  un- 
hesitatingly that  anything  which  dehumanizes  the  individ- 
ual, anything  which  treats  a  man  as  if  he  were  only  a  num- 
ber of  a  series  or  a  cog  in  a  wheel,  without  any  regard  to 
the  character,  the  aspirations,  the  temptations,  and  the 
idiosyncrasies  of  the  man,  must  utterly  fail  as  a  remedial 
agency.  The  Casual  Ward,  at  the  best,  is  merely  a 
squalid  resting-place  for  the  Casual  in  his  downward 
career.  If  anything  is  to  be  done  for  these  men,  it  must 
be  done  b}^  other  agents  than  those  which  prevail  in  the 
administration  of  the  Poor  Laws. 

The  second  method  in  which  society  endeavors  to  do 
its  duty  to  the  lapsed  masses  is  by  the  miscellaneous 
and  heterogeneous  efforts  which  are  clubbed  together 
under  the  generic  head  of  Charity.  Far  be  it  from  me 
to  say  one  word  in  disparagement  of  any  effort  that  is 
prompted    by   a  sincere  desire  to  alleviate  the  misery  of 


t)4  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

our  fellow-creatures,  but  the  most  charitable  are  those 
who  most  deplore  the  utter  failure  which  has,  up  till 
now,  attended  all  their  efforts  to  do  more  than  tempo- 
rarily alleviate  pain,  or  effect  an  occasional  improvement 
in  the  condition  of  individuals. 

There  are  many  institutions,  very  excellent  in  their  way, 
without  which  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  society  could  get 
on  at  all,  but  when  they  have  done  their  best  there  still 
remains  this  great  and  appalling  mass  of  human  misery 
on  our  hands,  a  perfect  quagmire  of  Human  Sludge.  They 
may  ladle  out  individuals  here  and  there,  but  to  drain 
the  whole  bog  is  an  effort  which  seems  to  be  beyond  the 
imagination  of  most  of  those  who  spend  their  lives  in 
philanthropic  work.  It  is  no  doubt  better  than  nothing  to 
take  the  individual  and  feed  him  from  day  to  day,  to 
bandage  up  his  wounds  and  heal  his  diseases;  but  you 
may  go  on  doing  that  forever,  if  you  do  not  do  more 
than  that;  and  the  worst  of  it  is  that  all  authorities  agree 
that  if  you  only  do  that  you  will  probably  increase  the 
evil  with  which  you  are  attempting  to  deal,  and  that  you 
had  much  better  let  the  whole  thing   alone. 

There  is  at  present  no  attempt  at  Concerted  Action. 
Each  one  deals  with  the  case  immediately  before  him, 
and  the  result  is  what  might  be  expected;  there  is  a 
great  expenditure,  but  the  gains  are,  alas!  very  small. 
The  fact,  however,  that  so  much  is  subscribed  for  the 
temporary  relief  and  the  mere  alleviation  of  distress  jus- 
tifies my  confidence  that  if  a  Practical  Scheme  of  dealing 
with  this  misery  in  a  permanent,  comprehensive  fashion 
be  discovered,  there  will  be  no  lack  of  the  sinews  of 
war.  It  is  well,  no  doubt,  sometimes  to  administer  an 
anaesthetic,  but  the  Cure  of  the  Patient  is  worth  ever  so 
much  more,  and  the  latter  is  the  object  which  we  must 
constantly  set  before  us  in  approaching  this  problem. 

The  third  method  by  which    society  professes    to    at- 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  95 

tempt  the  reclamation  of  the  lost  is  by  the  rough,  rude 
surgery  of  the  Jail.  Upon  this  a  whole  treatise  might 
be  written,  but  when  it  was  finished  it  would  be  nothing 
more  than  a  demonstration  that  our  Prison  system  has 
practically  missed  aiming  at  that  which  should  be  the 
first  essential  of  every  system  of  punishment.  It  is  not 
Reformatory,  it  is  not  worked  as  if  it  were  intended  to 
be  Reformatory.  It  is  punitive,  and  only  punitive. 
The  whole  administration  needs  to  be  reformed  from  top 
to  bottom  in  accordance  with  this  fundamental  princi- 
ple, viz,  that  while  every  prisoner  should  be  subjected 
to  that  measure  of  punishment  which  shall  mark  a  due 
sense  of  his  crime  both  to  himself  and  societ}^,  the  main 
object  should  be  to  rouse  in  his  mind  the  desire  to  lead 
an  honest  life;  and  to  effect  that  change  in  his  disposi- 
tion and  character  which  will  send  him  forth  to  put  that 
desire  into  practice.  At  present,  every  Prison  is  more  or 
less  a  Training  School  for  Crime,  an  introduction  to 
the  society  of  criminals,  the  petrifaction  of  any  linger- 
ing human  feeling,  and  a  very  Bastile  of  Despair.  The 
prison  brand  is  stamped  upon  those  who  go  in,  and  that 
so  deeply,  that  it  seems  as  if  it  clung  to  them  for  life. 
To  enter  Prison  once  means,  in  many  cases,  an  almost 
certain  return  there  at  an  early  date.  All  this  has  to  be 
changed,  and  will  be,  when  once  the  work  of  Prison  Re- 
form is  taken  in  hand  by  men  who  understand  the  sub- 
ject, who  believe  in  the  reformation  of  human  nature  in 
every  form  which  its  depravity  can  assume,  and  who  are 
in  full  sympathy  with  the  class  for  whose  benefit  they 
labor;  and  when  those  charged  directly  with  the  care  of 
criminals  seek  to  work  out  their  regeneration  in  the  same 
spirit. 

The  question  of  Prison  Reform  is  all  the  more  impor- 
tant because  it  is  only  by  the  agency  of  the  Jail  that 
Society  attempts  to    deal  with   its  .hopeless  cases.     If  a 


96  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

woman,  driven  mad  with  shame,  flings  herself  into  the 
river,  and  is  fished  out  alive,  we  clap  her  into  Priso'n  on 
a  charge  of  attempted  suicide.  If  a  man,  despairing  of 
work  and  gaunt  with  hunger,  helps  himself  to  food,  it  is 
to  the  same  reformatory  agency  that  he  is  forthwith  sub- 
jected. 

The  rough  and  ready  surgery  with  which  we  deal 
with  our  social  patients  recalls  the  simple  method  of 
the  early  physicians.  The  tradition  still  lingers  among 
old  people  of  doctors  who  prescribed  bleeding  for  every 
ailment,  and  of  keepers  of  asylums  whose  one  idea  of 
ministering  to  a  mind  diseased  was  to  put  the  body  into 
a  strait  waistcoat.  Modern  science  laughs  to  scorn  these 
simple  "remedies"  of  an  unscientific  age,  and  declares  that 
they  were,  in  most  cases,  the  most  efficacious  means  of 
aggravating  the  disease  they  professed  to  cure.  But  in 
social  maladies  we  are  still  in  the  age  of  the  blood-let- 
ter and  the  strait  waistcoat.  The  Jail  is  our  specific 
for  Despair.  When  all  else  fails,  Society  will  always 
undertake  to  feed,  clothe,  warm,  and  house  a  man,  if 
only  he  will  commit  a  crime.  It  will  do  it  also  in  such 
a  fashion  as  to  render  it  no  temporary  help,  but  a  per- 
manent necessity. 

Society  says  to  the  individual:  "To  qualify  for  free 
board  and  lodging  you  must  commit  a  crime.  But  if 
you  do  you  must  pay  the  price.  You  must  allow  me  to 
ruin  your  character,  and  doom  you  for  the  rest  of  your 
life  to  destitution,  modified  by  the  occasional  successes 
of  criminality.  You  shall  become  the  Child  of  the 
State,  on  condition  that  we  doom  you  to  a  temporal 
perdition,  out  of  which  you  will  never  be  permitted  to 
escape,  and  in  which  you  will  always  be  a  charge  upon 
our  resources  and  a  constant  source  of  anxiety  and  in- 
convenience to  the  authorities.  I  will  feed  you,  cer- 
tainly, but  in  return  you  must  permit  me  to  damn  you." 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  97 

That  surely  ought  not  to  be  the  last  word  of  Civilized 
Society. 

"Certainly  not,"  say  others.  "Emigration  is  the  true 
specific.  The  waste  lands  of  the  world  are  crying  aloud 
for  the  application  of  surplus  labor.  Emigration  is  the 
panacea."  Now  I  have  no  objection  to  emigration. 
Only  a  criminal  lunatic  could  seriously  object  to  the 
transference  of  hungry  Jack  from  an  overcrowded  shanty — 
where  he  cannot  even  obtain  enough  bad  potatoes  to  dull 
the  ache  behind  his  waistcoat,  and  is  tempted  to  let  his  child 
die  for  the  sake  of  the  insurance  money — to  a  land  flow- 
ing with  milk  and  honey,  where  he  can  eat  meat  three 
times  a  day,  and  where  a  man's  children  are  his  wealth. 
But  3^ou  might  as  well  lay  a  new-born  child  naked  in  the 
middle  of  a  new-sown  field  in  March,  and  expect  it  to 
live  and  thrive,  as  expect  emigration  to  produce  suc- 
cessful results  on  the  lines  which  some  lay  down.  The 
child,  no  doubt,  has  within  it  latent  capacities  which, 
when  years  and  training  have  done  their  work,  will  en- 
able him  to  reap  a  harvest  from  a  fertile  soil,  and  the' 
new-sown  field  will  be  covered  with  golden  grain  in 
August.  But  these  facts  will  not  enable  the  infant  to 
still  its  hunger  with  the  clods  of  the  earth  in  the  cold 
Spring-time.  It  is  just  like  that  with  emigration.  It  is 
simply  criminal  to  take  a  multitude  of  untrained  men 
and  women  and  land  them  penniless  and  helpless  on  the 
fringe  of  some  new  continent.  The  result  of  such  pro- 
ceedings we  see  in  the  American  cities;  in  the  degrada- 
tion of  their  slums,  and  in  the  hopeless  demoralization 
of  thousands  who,  in  their  own  country,  were  living  de- 
cent,   industrious  lives. 

A  few  months  since,  in  Paramatta,  in  New  South  Wales, 
a  young  man  who  had  emigrated  with  a  vague  hope  of 
mending  his  fortunes,  found  himself  homeless,  friend- 
less, and  penniless.  He  was  a  clerk.  They  wanted  no 
7 


98  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

more  clerks  in  Paramatta.  Trade  was  dull,  employment 
was  scarce,  even  for  trained  hands.  He  went  about  from 
day  to  day  seeking  work  and  finding  none.  At  last  he 
came  to  the  end  of  all  his  resources.  He  went  all  day 
without  food;  at  night  he  slept  as  best  he  could.  Morn- 
ing came,  and  he  was  hopeless.  All  next  day  passed 
without  a  meal.  Night  came.  He  could  not  sleep.  He 
wandered  about  restlessly.  At  last,  about  midnight,  an 
idea  seized  him.  Grasping  a  brick,  he  deliberately 
walked  up  to  a  jeweler's  window,  and  smashed  a  hole 
through  the  glass.  He  made  no  attempt  to  steal  any- 
thing. He  merely  smashed  the  pane  and  then  sat  down 
on  the  pavement  beneath  the  window,  waiting  for  the 
arrival  of  the  policeman.  He  waited  some  hours;  but  at 
last  the  constable  arrived.  He  gave  himself  up,  and  was 
marched  off  to  the  lock-up.  "I  shall  at  least  have  some- 
thing to  eat  now,"  was  the  reflection.  He  was  right. 
He  was  sentenced  to  one  year's  imprisonment,  and  he  is 
in  jail  at  this  hour.  This  very  morning  he  received  his 
rations,  and  at  this  very  moment  he  is  lodged  and 
clothed  and  cared  for  at  the  cost  of  the  rates  and  taxes. 
He  has  become  the  child  of  the  State,  and,  therefore, 
one  of  the  socially  damned.  Thus  emigration  itself,  in- 
stead of  being  an  invariable  specific,  sometimes  brings 
us  back  again  to  the  jail  door. 

Emigration,  by  all  means.  But  whom  are  you  to  em- 
igrate? These  girls  who  do  not  know  how  to  bake? 
These  lads  who  never  handled  a  spade?  And  where  are 
you  to  emigrate  them?  Are  you  going  to  make  the  Col- 
onies the  dumping-ground  of  your  human  refuse?  On 
that  the  colonists  will  have  something  decisive  to  say, 
where  there  are  colonists;  and  where  there  are  not,  how 
are  you  to  feed,  clothe,  and  employ  your  emigrants  in 
the  uninhabited  wilderness?  Immigration,  no  doubt,  is 
the  making  of  a  colony,  just  as  bread  is  the  staff  of  life. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  99 

But  if  you  were  to  cram  a  stomach  with  wheat  by  a 
force-pump  you  would  bring  on  such  a  fit  of  indigestion 
that  unless  your  victim  threw  up  the  indigestible  mass 
of  unground,  uncooked,  unmasticated  grain  he  would 
never  want  another  meal.  So  it  is  with  new  colonies  and 
the  surplus  labor  of  other  countries. 

Emigration  is  in  itself  not  a  panacea.  Is  Education? 
In  one  sense  it  may  be,  for  Education,  the  developing 
in  a  man  of  all  his  latent  capacities  for  improvement, 
may  cure  anything  and  everything.  But  the  Education  of 
which  men  speak  when  they  use  the  term,  is  mere 
schooling.  No  one  but  a  fool  would  say  a  word  against 
school-teaching.  By  all  means  let  us  have  our  children 
educated.  But  when  we  have  passed  them  through  the 
Board  School  Mill  we  have  enough  experience  to  see 
that  they  do  not  emerge  the  renovated  and  regenerated 
beings  whose  advent  was  expected  by  those  who  passed 
the  Education  Act.  The  "scuttlers"  who  knife  inoffen- 
sive persons  in  Lancashire,  the  fighting  gangs  of  the 
West  of  London,  belong  to  the  generation  that  has  en- 
joyed the  advantage  of  Compulsory  Education.  Educa- 
tion, book-learning,  and  schooling  will  not  solve  the  diffi- 
culty. It  helps,  no  doubt.  But  in  some  ways  it  aggra- 
vates it.  The  common  school  to  which  the  children  of 
thieves  and  harlots  and  drunkards  are  driven,  to  sit  side 
by  side  with  our  little  ones,  is  often  by  no  means  a 
temple  of  all  the  virtues.  It  is  sometimes  a  university 
of  all  the  vices.  The  bad  infect  the  good,  and  your  boy 
and  girl  come  back  reeking  with  the  contamination  of 
bad  associates,  and  familiar  with  the  coarsest  obscenity 
of  the  slum.  Another  great  evil  is  the  extent  to  which 
our  Education  tends  to  overstock  the  labor  market  with 
material  for  quill-drivers  and  shopmen,  and  gives  our 
youth  a  distaste  for  sturdy  labor.  Many  of  the  most 
hopeless  cases  in  our  Shelters  are  men    of    considerable 


100  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

education.  Our  schools  help  to  enable  a  starving  man 
to  tell  his  story  in  more  grammatical  language  than  that 
which  his  father  could  have  employed,  but  they  do  not 
feed  him,  or  teach  him  where  to  go  to  get  fed.  So  far 
from  doing  this  they  increase  the  tendency  to  drift  into 
those  channels  where  food  is  least  secure,  because  em- 
ployment is  most  uncertain,  and  the  market  most  over- 
stocked. 

"Try  Trades  Unionism,"  say  some,  and  their  advice  is 
being  widely  followed.  There  are  many  and  great  advan- 
tages in  Trades  Unionism.  The  fable  of  the  bundle  of 
sticks  is  good  for  all  time.  The  more  the  working-peo- 
ple can  be  banded  together  in  voluntary  organizations 
created  and  administered  by  themselves  for  the  pro- 
tection of  their  own  interests,  the  better — at  any  rate 
for  this  world — and  not  only  for  their  own  interests,  but 
for  those  of  every  other  section  of  the  community.  But 
can  we  rely  upon  this  agency  as  a  means  of  solving  the 
problems  which  confront  us?  Trades  Unionism  has  had 
the  field  to  itself  for  a  generation.  It  is  twenty  years 
since  it  was  set  free  from  all  the  legal  disabilities  under 
which  it  labored.  But  it  has  not  covered  the  land.  It 
has  not  organized  all  skilled  labor.  Unskilled  labor  is 
almost  untouched.  At  the  Congress  at  Liverpool  only 
one  and  a  half  million  workmen  were  represented. 
Women  are  almost  entirely  outside  the  pale.  Trade 
Unions  not  only  represent  a  fraction  of  the  laboring 
classes,  but  they  are,  by  their  constitution,  unable  to  deal 
with  those  who  do  not  belong  to  their  body.  What 
ground  can  there  be,  then,  for  hoping  that  Trades  Union- 
ism will  by  itself  solve  the  difficulty?  The  most  ex- 
perienced Trades  Unionists  will  be  the  first  to  admit 
that  any  scheme  which  could  deal  adequately  with  the  Out- 
of-Works  and  others  who  hang  onto  their  skirts  and  form 
the  recruiting  ground  of  blacklegs  and  embarrass    them 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  101 

in  every  way,  would  be,  of  all  others,  that  which  would 
be  most  beneficial  to  Trades  Unionism.  The  same  may 
be  said  about  Co-operation.  Personally,  I  am  a  strong 
believer  in  Co-operation,  but  it  must  be  Co-operation 
based  on  the  spirit  of  benevolence.  I  don't  see  how  any 
pacific  readjustment  of  the  social  and  economic  relations 
between  classes  in  this  country  can  be  effected  except  by 
the  gradual  substitution  of  co-operative  associations 
for  the  present  wages  system.  As  you  will  see  in  sub- 
sequent chapters,  so  far  from  there  being  anything  in 
my  proposals  that  would  militate  in  any  way  against 
the  ultimate  adoption  of  the  co-operative  solution  of  the 
question,  I  look  to  Co-operation  as  one  of  the  chief 
elements  of  hope  in  the  future.  But  we  have  not  to 
deal  with  the  ultimate  future,  but  with  the  immediate 
present,  and  for  the  evils  with  which  we  are  dealing  the 
existing  co-operative  organizations  do  not  and  cannot 
give  us  much  help. 

Another — I  do  not  like  to  call  it  specific,  it  is  only  a 
name,  a  mere  mockery  of  a  specific — so  let  me  call  it  an- 
other suggestion  made  when  discussing  this  evil,  ^  is 
Thrift.  Thrift  is  a  great  virtue,  no  doubt.  But  how  is 
Thrift  to  benefit  those  who  have  nothing?  What  is  the 
use  of  the  gospel  of  Thrift  to  a  man  who  had  nothing 
to  eat  yesterday,  and  has  not  threepence  to-day  to  pay 
for  his  lodging  to-night?  To  live  on  nothing  a  day 
is  difficult  enough,  but  to  save  on  it  would  beat  the  clev- 
erest political  economist  that  ever  lived.  I  admit  with- 
out hesitation  that  any  Scheme  which  weakened  the  in- 
centive to  Thrift  "would  do  harm.  But  it  is  a  mistake 
to  imagine  that  social  damnation  is  an  incentive  to 
Thrift.  It  operates  least  where  its  force  ought*to  be  most 
felt.  There  is  no  fear  that  any  Scheme  that  we  can  de- 
vise will  appreciably  diminish  the  deterrent  influences 
which  dispose   a  man  to  save.      But    it   is     idle    wasting 


103  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

time  upon  a  plea  that  is  only  brought  forward  as  an  ex- 
cuse for  inaction.  Thrift  is  a  great  virtue,  the  inculca- 
tion of  which  must  be  constantly  kept  in  view  by  all  those 
who  are  attempting  to  educate  and  save  the  people.  It  is 
not  in  any  sense  a  specific  for  the  salvation  of  the  lapsed 
and  the  lost.  Even  among  the  most  wretched  of  the  very 
poor,  a  man  must  have  an  object  and  a  hope  before  he 
will  save  a  halfpenny.  "Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to- 
morrow we  perish,"  sums  up  the  philosophy  of  those 
who  have  no  hope.  In  the  thriftiness  of  the  French 
peasant  we  see  that  the  temptation  of  eating  and  drink- 
ing is  capable  of  being  resolutely  subordinated  to  the 
superior  claims  of  the  accumulation  of  a  dowry  for  the 
daughter  or  for  the  acquisition  of  a  little  more  land 
for  the  son. 

Of  the  schemes  of  those  who  propose  to  bring  in  a  new 
heaven  and  a  new  earth  by  a  more  scientific  distribution 
of  the  pieces  of  gold  and  silver  in  the  trouser  pockets 
of  mankind,  I  need  not  say  anything  here.  They 
may  be  good,  or  they  may  not.  I  say  nothing  against 
any  short  cut  to  the  Millennium  that  is  compatible  with 
tHe  Ten  Commandments.  I  intensely  sympathize  with 
the  aspirations  that  lie  behind  all  these  Socialist 
dreams.  But  whether  it  is  Henry  George's  Single  Tax 
on  Land  Values,  or  Edward  Bellamy's  Nationalism,  or 
the  more  elaborate  schemes  of  the  Collectivists,  my  at- 
titude towards  them  all  is  the  same.  What  these  good 
people  want  to  do,  I  also  want  to  do.  But  I  am  a  prac- 
tical man,  dealing  with  the  actualities  of  to-day.  I 
have  no  preconceived  theories,  and  I  flatter  myself  I  am 
singularly  free  from  prejudices.  I  am  ready  to  sit  at  the 
feet  of  any  who  will  show  me  any  good.  I  keep  my 
mind  open;on  all  these  subjects,  and  am  quite  prepared 
to  hail  with  open  arms  any  Utopia  that  is  offered  me. 
gut  it  must  be  within  range  of  my  finger-tips.      It  is  of  n® 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  103 

use  to  me  if  it  is  in  the  clouds.  Checks  on  the  Bank  of 
Futurity  I  accept  gladly  enough  as  a  free  gift,  but  I  can 
hardly  be  expected  to  take  them  as  if  they  were  current 
coin,  or  to  try  to  cash  them  at  the  Bank  of  England. 

It  may  be  that  nothing  will  be  put  permanently  right 
until  everything  has  been  turned  upside  down.  There 
are  certainly  so  many  things  that  need  transforming,  be- 
ginning with  the  heart  of  each  individual  man  and 
woman,  that  I  do  not  quarrel  with  any  Visionary  when, 
in  his  intense  longing  for  the  amelioration  of  the  con- 
dition of  mankind,  he  lays  down  his  theories  as  to 
the  necessity  for  radical  change,  however  impracti- 
cable they  may  appear  to  me.  But  this  is  the  question: 
Here  at  our  Shelter  last  night  were  a  thousand  hungry, 
wojrkless  people.  I  want  to  know  what  to  do  with  them? 
Here  is  John  Jones,  a  stout,  stalwart  laborer,  in  rags,  who 
has  not  had  one  square  meal  for  a  month,  who  has  been 
hunting  for  work  that  will  enable  him  to  keep  body  and 
soul  together,  and  hunting  in  vain.  There  he  is  in  his 
hungry  raggedness,  asking  for  work  that  he  may  live, 
and  not  die  of  sheer  starvation  in  the  midst  of  the 
wealthiest  city  in  the  world.  What  is  to  be  done  with 
John  Jones? 

The  individualist  tells  me  that  the  free  play  of  the 
Natural  Laws  governing  the  struggle  for  existence  will 
result  in  the  Survival  of  the  Fittest,  and  that  in  the 
course  of  a  few  ages,  more  or  less,  a  much  nobler  type 
will  be  evolved.  But  meanwhile  what  is  to  become  of 
John  Jones?  The  Socialist  tells  me  that  the  great  Social 
Revolution  is  looming  large  on  the  horizon.  In  the 
good  time  coming,  when  wealth  will  be  re-distributed 
and  private  property  abolished,  all  stomachs  will  be 
filled,  and  there  will  be  no  more  John  Joneses  impa- 
tiently clamoring  for  opportunity  to  work  that  they  may 
not  die.     It  may  be  so,  but  in  the  meantime  here  is  John 


104  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Jones  growing  more  impatient  than  ever  because  hungrier, 
who  wonders  if  he  is  to  wait  for  a  dinner  until  the  So- 
cial Revolution  has  arrived.  What  are  we  to  do  with 
John  Jones?  That  is  the  question.  And  to  the  solution 
of  that  question  none  of  the  Utopians  give  me  much 
help.  For  practical  purposes  these  dreamers  fall  under 
the  condemnation  they  lavish  so  freely  upon  the  conven- 
tional religious  people  who  relieve  themselves  of  all  anx- 
iety for  the  welfare  of  the  poor  by  saying  that  in  the  next 
world  all  will  be  put  right.  This  religious  cant,  which 
rids  itself  of  all  the  importunity  of  suffering  humanity  by 
drawing  unnegotiable  bills  payable  on  the  other  side  of 
the  grave,  is  not  more  impracticable  than  the  Social- 
istic clap-trap  which  postpones  all  redress  of  human 
suffering  until  after  the  general  overturn.  Both  take  ref- 
uge in  the  Future  to  escape  a  solution  of  the  problems 
of  the  Present,  and  it  matters  little  to  the  sufferers 
whether  the  Future  is  on  this  side  of  the  grave  or  the 
other.      Both  are,  for  them,  equally  out  of  reach. 

When  the  sky  falls  we  shall  catch  larks.  No  doubt. 
But  in  the  meantime? 

It  is  the  meantime — that  is  the  only  time  in  which  we 
have  to  work.  It  is  in  the  meantime  that  the  people 
must  be  fed,  that  their  life's  work  must  be  done  or  left 
undone  forever.  Nothing  that  I  have  to  propose  in  this 
book,  or  that  I  propose  to  do  by  my  Scheme,  will  in  the 
least  prevent  the  coming  of  any  of  the  Utopias.  I  leave 
the  limitless  infinite  of  the  Future  to  the  Utopians. 
They  may  build  there  as  they  please.  As  for  me,  it  is 
indispensable  that  whatever  I  do  is  founded  on  existing 
fact,  and  provides  a  present  help  for  the  actual  need. 

There  is  only  one  class  of  men  who  have  cause  to  op- 
pose the  proposals  which  I  am  about  to  set  forth.  That 
is  those,  if  such  there  be,  who  are  determined  to  bring 
about  by  any  and  every  means  a  bloody  and  violent  over- 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  105 

turn  of  all  existing  institutions.  They  will  oppose  the 
Scheme,  and  they  will  act  logically  in  so  doing.  For 
the  only  hope  of  those  who  are  the  artificers  of  Rev- 
olution is  the  mass  of  seething  discontent  and  misery  that 
lies  in  the  heart  of  the  social  system.  Honestly  believing 
that  things  must  get  worse  before  they  get  better,  they 
build  all  their  hopes  upon  the  general  overturn,  and  they 
resent  as  an  indefinite  postponement  of  the  realization 
of  their  dreams  any  attempt  at  a  reduction  of  human  mis- 
er 3\ 

The  Army  of  the  Revolution  is  recruited  by  the  Sol- 
diers of  Despair.  Therefore,  down  with  any  Scheme 
which  gives  men  Hope.  In  so  far  as  it  succeeds  it  cur- 
tails our  recruiting  ground  and  reinforces  the  ranks  of 
our  Enemies.  Such  opposition  is  to  be  counted  upon 
and  to  be  utilized  as  the  best  of  all  tributes  to  the 
value  of  our  work.  Those  who  thus  count  upon  violence 
and  bloodshed  are  too  few  to  hinder,  and  their  opposi- 
tion will  merely  add  to  the  momentum  with  which  I 
hope  and  believe  this  Scheme  will  ultimately  be  enabled 
to  surmount  all  dissent,  and  achieve,  with  the  blessing 
of  God,  that  measure  of  success  with  which  I  verily  be- 
lieve it  to  be  charged. 


PART  II.-DELIYERANCE 


CHAPTER  I 

A   STUPENDOUS   UNDERTAKING 

Such,  then,  is  a  brief  and  hurried  survey  of  Darkest 
England;  and  those  who  have  been  in  the  depths  of  the 
enchanted  forest  in  which  wander  the  tribes  of  the 
despairing  Lost  will  be  the  first  to  admit  that  I  have  in 
no  way  exaggerated  its  horrors,  while  most  will  assert 
that  I  have  under-estimated  the  number  of  its  denizens. 
I  have,  indeed,  very  scrupulously  striven  to  keep  my 
estimates  of  the  extent  of  the  evil  within  the  lines  of 
sobriety.  Nothing  in  such  an  enterprise  as  that  on 
which  I  am  entering  could  worse  befall  me  than  to  come 
under  the  reproach  of  sensationalism  or  exaggeration. 
Most  of  the  evidence  upon  which  I  have  relied  is  taken 
direct  from  the  official  statistics  supplied  by  the  Gov- 
ernment Returns;  and  as  to  the  rest,  I  can  only  say  that 
if  my  figures  are  compared  with  those  of  any  other 
writer  upon  this  subject,  it  will  be  found  that  my  esti- 
mates are  the  lowest.  I  am  not  prepared  to  defend  the 
exact  accuracy  of  my  calculations,  excepting  so  far  as 
they  constitute  the  minimum.  To  those  who  believe  that 
the  numbers  of  the  wretched  are  far  in  excess  of  my  fig- 
ures, I  have  nothing  to  say,  excepting  this,  that  if  the 
evil  is  so  much  greater  than  I  have  described,  then  let 
your    efforts    be    proportioned    to    your    estimate,   not  to 

100 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  107 

mine.  The  great  point  with  each  of  us  is,  not  how 
man}^  of  the  wretched  exist  to-day,  but  how  few  shall 
there  exist  in  the  years  that  are  to  come. 

The  dark  and  dismal  jungle  of  pauperism,  vice,  and 
despair  is  the  inheritance  to  which  we  have  succeeded 
from  the  generations  and  centuries  past,  during  which 
wars,  insurrections,  and  internal  troubles  left  our  fore- 
fathers small  leisure  to  attend  to  the  well-being  of  the 
sunken  tenth.  Now  that  we  have  happened  upon  more 
fortunate  times,  let  us  recognize  that  we  are  our  broth- 
er's keepers,  and  set  to  work,  regardless  of  party  distinc- 
tions and  religious  differences,  to  make  this  world  of 
ours  a  little  bit  more  like  home  for  those  whom  we  call 
our  brethren. 

The  problem,  it  must  be  admitted,  is  by  no  means  a 
simple  one;  nor  can  anyone  accuse  me  in  the  foregoing 
pages  of  having  minimized  the  difficulties  which  hered- 
ity, habit,  and  surroundings  place  in  the  way  of  its 
solution,  but  unless  we  are  prepared  to  fold  our  arms  in 
selfish  ease  and  say  that  nothing  can  be  done,  and 
thereby  doom  those  lost  millions  to  remediless  perdition 
in  this  world,  to  say  nothing  of  the  next,  the  problem 
must  be  solved  in  some  way.  But  in  what  way?  That  is 
the  question.  It  may  tend,  perhaps,  to  the  crystalliza- 
tion of  opinion  on  this  subject  if  I  lay  down,  with  such 
precision  as  I  can  command,  what  must  be  the  essential 
elements  of  any  scheme  likely  to  command  success. 

Section  I.— THE  ESSENTIALS  TO  SUCCESS 

The  jfirst  essential  that  must  be  borne  in  mind  as  governing 
every  Scheme  that  may  be  put  forward  is  that  it  must  change 
the  man  when  it  is  his  character  and  conduct  which  constitute 
the  reasons  for  his  failure  in  the  battle  of  life.  No  change 
in  circumstances,  no  revolution  in  social  conditions, 
can  possibly  transform  the  nature  of  man.     Some  of  the 


108  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

worst  men  and  women  in  the  world,  whose  names  are 
chronicled  by  history  with  a  shudder  of  horror,  were 
those  who  had  all  the  advantages  that  wealth,  education, 
and  station  could  confer  or  ambition  could  attain. 

The  supreme  test  of  any  scheme  for  benefiting  humanity 
lies  in  the  answer  to  the  question,  What  does  it  make 
of  the  individual?  Does  it  quicken  his  conscience, 
does  it  soften  his  heart,  does  it  enlighten  his  mind;  does 
it,  in  short,  make  more  of  a  true  man  of  him?  because 
only  by  such  influences  can  he  be  enabled  to  lead  a  hu- 
man life.  Among  the  denizens  of  Darkest  England  there 
are  many  who  have  found  their  way  thither  by  defects 
of  character  which  would  under  the  most  favorable  cir- 
cumstances relegate  them  to  the  same  position.  Hence, 
unless  you  can  change  their  character  your  labor  will  be 
lost.  You  may  clothe  the  drunkard,  fill  his  purse  with 
gold,  establish  him  in  a  well-furnished  home,  and  in 
three,  or  six,  or  twelve  months  he  will  once  more  be  on 
the  Embankment,  haunted  by  delirium  tremens,  dirty, 
squalid,  and  ragged.  Hence,  in  all  cases  where  a  man's 
own  character  and  defects  constitute  the  reasons  for  his 
fall,  that  character  must  be  changed  and  that  conduct 
altered  if  any  permanent  beneficial  results  are  to  be  at- 
tained. If  he  is  a  drunkard,  he  must  be  made  sober; 
if  idle,  he  must  be  made  industrious;  if  criminal,  he 
must  be  made  honest;  if  impure,  he  must  be  made  clean; 
and  if  he  be  so  deep  down  in  vice,  and  has  been  there 
so  long  that  he  has  lost  all  heart,  and  hope,  and  power 
to  help  himself,  and  absolutely  refuses  to  move,  he  must 
be  inspired  with  hope  and  have  created  within  him  the 
ambition  to  rise;  otherwise  he  will  never  get  out  of  the 
horrible  pit. 

Secondly:  The  remedy^  to  be  effectual,  must  change  the 
circumstances  of  the  individual  when  they  are  the  cause  of  his 
wretched  condition,  and  lie  beyond  his  control.     Among  those 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  109 

who  have  arrived  at  their  present  evil  plight  through 
faults  of  self-indulgence  or  some  defect  in  their  moral 
character,  how  many  are  there  who  would  have  been 
very  differently  placed  to-day  had  their  surroundings 
been  otherwise?  Charles  Kingsley  puts  this  very  abruptly 
where  he  makes  the  Poacher's  widow  say,  when  address- 
ing the  Bad  Squire,  who  drew  back — 

"Our  daughters,  with  base-born  babies, 
Have  wandered  away  in  their  shame. 
If  your  misses  had  slept,  Squire  ,  where  they  did, 
Your  misses  might  do  the  same." 

Placed  in  the  same  or  similar  circumstances,  how  many 
of  us  would  have  turned  out  better  than  this  poor, 
lapsed,  sunken  multitude? 

Many  of  this  crowd  have  never  had  a  chance  of  doing 
better;  they  have  been  born  in  a  poisoned  atmosphere, 
educated  in  circumstances  which  have  rendered  modesty 
an  impossibility,  and  have  been  thrown  into  life  in 
conditions  which  make  vice  a  second  nature.  Hence, 
to  provide  an  effective  remedy  for  the  evils  which  we 
are  deploring,  these  circumstances  must  be  altered,  and 
unless  my  Scheme  effects  such  a  change,  it  will  be  of 
no  use.  There  are  multitudes,  myriads,  of  men  and 
women,  who  are  floundering  in  the  horrible  quagmire 
beneath  the  burden  of  a  load  too  heavy  for  them  to  bear; 
every  plunge  they  take  forward  lands  them  deeper; 
some  have  ceased  even  to  struggle,  and  lie  prone  in  the 
filthy  bog,  slowly  suffocating,  with  their  manhood  and 
womanhood  all  but  perished.  It  is  no  use  standing  on 
the  firm  bank  of  the  quaking  morass  and  anathematizing 
these  poor  wretches;  if  you  are  to  do  them  any  good, 
you  must  give  them  another  chance  to  get  on  their  feet, 
you  must  give  them  firm  foothold  upon  which  they  can 
once  more  stand  upright,  and  you  must  build  stepping- 
stones  across  the  bog  to  enable  them  safely  to  reach  the 
other  side.     Favorable  circumstances  will  not  change  a 


110  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

man's  heart  or  transform  his  nature,  but  unpropitious 
circumstances  may  render  it  absolutely  impossible  for 
him  to  escape,  no  matter  how  he  may  desire  to  extricate 
himself.  The  first  step  with  these  helpless,  sunken 
creatures  is  to  create  the  desire  to  escape,  and  then  pro- 
vide the  means  for  doing  so.  In  other  words,  give  the 
man  another  chance. 

Thirdly:  Any  remedy  worthy  of  consideration  must  be  on  a 
scale  commensurate  with  the  evil  with  which  it  proposes  to 
deal.  It  is  no  use  trying  to  bail  out  the  ocean  with  a 
pint  pot.  This  evil  is  one  whose  victims  are  counted  by 
the  million.  The  army  of  the  Lost  in  our  midst  exceeds 
the  numbers  of  that  multitudinous  host  which  Xerxes  led 
from  Asia  to  attempt  the  conquest  of  Greece.  Pass  in 
parade  those  who  make  up  the  submerged  tenth,  count  the 
paupers  indoor  and  outdoor,  the  homeless,  the  starving, 
the  criminals,  the  lunatics,  the  drunkards,  and  the  harlots 
— and  yet  do  not  give  way  to  despair!  Even  to  attempt 
to  save  a  tithe  of  this  host  requires  that  we  should  put 
much  more  force  and  fire  into  our  work  than  has  hitherto 
been  exhibited  by  anyone.  There  must  be  no  more  phil- 
anthropic tinkering,  as  if  this  vast  sea  of  human  misery 
were  contained  in  the  limits  of  a  garden  pond. 

Fourthly:  Not  only  must  the  Scheme  be  large  enough,  but 
it  must  be  permanent.  That  is  to  say,  it  must  not  be 
merely  a  spasmodic  effort  coping  with  the  misery  of  to- 
day; it  must  be  established  on  a  durable  footing,  so  as 
to  go  on  dealing  with  the  misery  of  to-morrow  and  the 
day  after,  so  long  as  there  is  misery  left  in  the  world 
with  which  to  grapple. 

Fifthly:  BiU  while  it  must  be  permaneftt,  it  must  also  be 
immediately  practicable.  Any  Scheme,  to  be  of  use,  must 
be  capable  of  being  brought  into  instant  operation  with 
beneficial  results. 


ANt)  THE  WAY  OUT  ill 

'  Sixthly:  The  indirect  features  of  the  Scheme  must  not  be  such 
as  to  produce  injury  to  the  persons  whom  we  seek  to  beiiefit. 
Mere  charity,  for  instance,  while  relieving  the  pinch  of 
hunger,  demoralizes  the  recipient;  and  whatever  the 
remedy  is  that  we  employ,  it  must  be  of  such  a  nature 
as  to  do  good  without  doing  evil  at  the  same  time.  It 
is  no  use  conferring  six  pennyworth  of  benefit  on  a  man 
if,  at  the  same  time,  we  do  him  a  shilling's  worth  of 
harm. 

Seventhly:  While  assist ifig  one  class  of  the  community ,  it 
must  not  seriously  interfere  with  the  interests  of  another. 
In  raising  one  section  of  the  fallen,  we  must  not  there- 
by endanger  the  safety  of  those  who  with  difficulty  are 
keeping  on  their  feet. 

These  are  the  conditions  by  which  I  ask  you  to  test 
the  Scheme  I  am  about  to  unfold.  They  are  formidable 
enough,  possibly,  to  deter  many  from  even  attempting 
to  do  anything.  They  are  not  of  my  making.  They  are 
obvious  to  anyone  who  looks  into  the  matter.  They  are 
the  laws  which  govern  the  work  of  the  philanthropic  re- 
former, just  as  the  laws  of  gravitation,  of  wind,  and  of 
weather,  govern  the  operations  of  the  engineer.  It  is 
no  use  saying  we  could  build  a  bridge  across  the  Tay  if 
the  wind  did  not  blow,  or  that  we  could  build  a  railway 
across  a  bog  if  the  quagmire  would  afford  us  a  solid 
foundation.  The  engineer  has  to  take  into  account  the 
difficulties,  and  make  them  his  starting-point.  The  wind 
will  blow;  therefore  the  bridge  must  be  made  strong 
enough  to  resist  it.  Chat  Moss  will  shake;  therefore  we 
must  construct  a  foundation  in  the  very  bowels  of  the 
bog  on  which  to  build  our  railway.  So  it  is  with  the 
social  difficulties  which  confront  us.  If  we  act  in  har- 
mony with  these  laws  we  shall  triumph;  but  if  we  ignore 
them  they  will  overwhelm  us  with  destruction  and  cover 
us  with  disgrace. 


113  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

But,  difficult  as  the  task  may  be,  it  is  not  one  which 
we  can  neglect.  When  Napoleon  was  compelled  to 
retreat  under  circumstances  which  rendered  it  impossi- 
ble for  him  to  carry  off  his  sick  and  wounded,  he  ordered 
his  doctors  to  poison  every  man  in  the  hospital.  A  gen- 
eral has  before  now  massacred  his  prisoners  rather  than 
allow  them  to  escape.  These  Lost  ones  are  the  Prisoners 
of  Society;  they  are  the  Sick  and  Wounded  in  our  Hospi- 
tals. What  a  shriek  would  arise  from  the  civilized 
world  if  it  were  proposed  to  administer  to-night  to 
every  one  of  these  millions  such  a  dose  of  morphine 
that  they  would  sleep  to  wake  no  more.  But  so  far  as 
they  are  concerned,  would  it  not  be  much  less  cruel 
thus  to  end  their  life  than  to  allow  them  to  drag  on  day 
after  day,  year  after  year,  in  misery,  anguish,  and  de- 
spair, driven  into  vice  and  hunted  into  crime,  until  at 
last  disease  harries  them  into  the    grave? 

I  am  under  no  delusion  as  to  the  possibility  of  inaugu- 
rating a  millennium  by  my  Scheme;  but  the  triumphs 
of  science  deal  so  much  with  the  utilization  of  waste 
material,  that  I  do  not  despair  of  something  effectual 
being  accomplished  in  the  utilization  of  this  waste 
human  product.  The  refuse  which  was  a  drug  and  a 
curse  to  our  manufacturers,  when  treated  under  the 
hands  of  a  chemist,  has  been  the  means  of  supplying  us 
with  dyes  rivaling  in  loveliness  and  variety  the  hues  of 
the  rainbow.  If  the  alchemy  of  science  can  extract 
beautiful  colors  from  coal  tar,  cannot  Divine  alchemy 
enable  us  to  evolve  gladness  and  brightness  out  of  the 
agonized  hearts  and  dark,  dreary,  loveless  lives  of  these 
doomed  myriads?  Is  it  too  much  to  hope  that  in  God's 
world  God's  children  may  be  able  to  do  something,  if 
they  set  to  work  with  a  will,  to  carry  out  a  plan  of  cam- 
paign against  these  great  evils  which  are  the  nightmare 
of  our  existence? 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  113 

The  remedy,  it  may  be,  is  simpler  than  some  imagine. 
The  key  to  the  enigma  may  lie  closer  to  our  hands  than 
we  have  any  idea  of.  Many  devices  have  been  tried,  and 
many  have  failed,  no  doubt;  it  is  only  stubborn,  reck- 
less perseverance  that  can  hope  to  succeed;  it  is  well 
that  we  recognize  this.  How  many  ages  did  men  try  to 
make  gunpowder,  and  never  succeeded?  They  would  put 
saltpetre  to  charcoal,  or  charcoal  to  sulphur,  or  saltpetre 
to  sulphur,  and  so  were  ever  unable  to  make  the  com- 
pound explode.  But  it  has  only  been  discovered  within 
the  last  few  hundred  years  that  all  three  were  needed. 
Before  that  gunpowder  was  a  mere  imagination,  a  phan- 
tasy of  the  alchemists.  How  easy  it  is  to  make  gun- 
powder, now  the  secret  of  its  manufacture  is  known! 

But  take  a  simpler  illustration,  one  which  lies  even 
within  the  memory  of  some  that  read  these  pages.  From 
the  beginning  of  the  world  down  to  the  beginning  of  this 
century,  mankind  had  not  found  out,  with  all  its  striv- 
ing after  cheap  and  easy  transport,  the  miraculous 
difference  that  would  be  brought  about  by  laying  down 
two  parallel  lines  of  metal.  All  the  great  men  and  the 
wise  men  of  the  past  lived  and  died  oblivious  of  that 
fact.  The  greatest  mechanicians  and  engineers  of  antiq- 
uity, the  men  who  bridged  all  the  rivers  of  Europe,  the 
architects  who  built  the  cathedrals  which  are  still  the 
wonder  of  the  world,  failed  to  discern  what  seems  to  us  so 
obviously  simple  a  proposition,  that  two  parallel  lines  of 
rail  would  diminish  the  cost  and  difficulty  of  transport 
to  a  minimum.  Without  that  discovery  the  steam  engine, 
which  has  itself  been  an  invention  of  quite  recent  years, 
would  have  failed  to  transform  civilization. 

What    we    have    to    do    in    the    philanthropic    sphere 
is  to  find  something  analogous  to  the   engineers'  parallel 
bars.     This    discovery    I    think  I  have  made,  and  hence 
have  I  written  this  book. 
8 


114  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Section  II.— MY  SCHEME 

What,  then,  is  my  Scheme?  It  is  a  very  simple  one, 
although  in  its  ramifications  and  extensions  it  embraces 
the  whole  world.  In  this  book  I  profess  to  do  no  more 
than  to  merely  outline,  as  plainly  and  as  simply  as  I  can, 
the  fundamental  features  of  my  proposals.  I  propose  to 
devote  the  bulk  of  this  volume  to  setting  forth  what  can 
practically  be  done  with  one  of  the  most  pressing  parts 
of  the  problem,  namely,  that  relating  to  those  who  are 
out  of  work,  and  who,  as  the  result,  are  more  or  less  des- 
titute. I  have  many  ideas  of  what  might  be  done  with 
those  who  are  at  present  cared  for  in  some  measure  by 
the  State,  but  I  will  leave  these  ideas  for  the  present. 

It  is  not  urgent  that  I  should  explain  how  our  Poor 
Law  system  could  be  reformed,  or  what  I  should  like  to 
see  done  for  the  Lunatics  in  Asylums,  or  the  Criminals 
in  Jails.  The  persons  who  are  provided  for  by  the 
State  we  will,  therefore,  for  the  moment,  leave  out  of 
count.  The  indoor  paupers,  the  convicts,  the  inmates  of 
the  lunatic  asylums  are  cared  for,  in  a  fashion,  already. 
But,  over  and  above  all  these,  there  exist  some  hundreds 
of  thousands  who  are  not  quartered  on  the  State,  but 
who  are  living  on  the  verge  of  despair,  and  who  at  any 
moment,  under  circumstances  of  misfortune,  might  be 
compelled  to  demand  relief  or  support  in  one  shape  or 
another.  I  will  confine  myself,  therefore,  for  the  present 
to  those  who  have  no  helper. 

It  is  possible,  I  think  probable,  if  the  proposals 
which  I  am  now  putting  forward  are  carried  out  suc- 
cessfully in  relation  to  the  lost,  homeless,  and  help- 
less of  the  population,  that  many  of  those  who 
are  at  the  present  moment  in  somewhat  better  cir- 
cumstances will  demand  that  they  also  shall  be  allowed 
to  partake  in  the  benefits  of  the  Scheme.      But  upon  this 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  115 

also  I  remain  silent.  I  merely  remark  that  we  have,  in 
the  recognition  of  the  importance  of  discipline  and 
organization,  what  maybe  called  regimented  co-operation, 
a  principle  that  will  be  found  valuable  for  solving  many 
social  problems  other  than  that  of  destitution.  Of  these 
plans,  which  are  at  present  being  brooded  over  with  a 
view  to  their  realization  when  the  time  is  propitious  and 
the  opportunity  occurs,  I  shall  have  something  to  say. 
What  is  the  outward  and  visible  form  of  the  Problem 
of  the  Unemployed.  Alas!  we  are  all  too  familiar  with 
it  for  any  lengthy  description  to  be  necessary.  The  so- 
cial problem  presents  itself  before  us  whenever  a  hungry, 
dirty,  and  ragged  man  stands  at  our  door  asking  if  we  can 
give  him  a  crust  or  a  job.  That  is  the  social  question. 
What  are  you  to  do  with  that  man?  He  has  no  money 
in  his  pocket,  all  that  he  can  pawn  he  has  pawned  long 
ago,  his  stomach  is  as  empty  as  his  purse,  and  the  whole 
of  the  clothes  upon  his  back,  even  if  sold  on  the  best 
terms,  would  not  fetch  a  shilling.  There  he  stands,  your 
brother,  with  sixpennyworth  of  rags  to  cover  his  naked- 
ness from  his  fellow-men  and  not  sixpennyworth  of 
victuals  within  his  reach.  He  asks  for  work,  which  he 
will  set  to  even  on  his  empty  stomach  and  in  his  ragged 
uniform,  if  so  be  that  you  will  give  him  something  for 
it,  but  his  hands  are  idle,  for  no  one  employs  him.  What 
are  you  to  do  with  that  man?  That  is  the  great  note  of 
interrogation  that  confronts  Society  to-day.  Not  only  in 
overcrowded  England,  but  in  newer  countries  beyond  the 
sea,  where  Society  has  not  yet  provided  a  means  by  which 
the  men  can  be  put  upon  the  land  and  the  land  be  made  to 
feed  the  men.  To  deal  with  this  man  is  the  Problem  of 
the  Unemployed.  To  deal  with  him  effectively  you  must 
deal  with  him  immediately,  you  must  provide  him  in  some 
way  or  other  at  once  with  food,  and  shelter,  and  warmth. 
Next  you  must  find  him  something  to  do,  something  that 


116  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

will  test  the  reality  of  his  desire  to  work.  This  test  must 
be  more  or  less  temporary,  and  should  be  of  such  a  na- 
ture as  to  prepare  him  for  making  a  permanent  liveli- 
hood. Then,  having  trained  him,  you  must  provide  him 
wherewithal  to  start  life  afresh.  All  these  things  I  pro- 
pose to  do.  My  Scheme  divides  itself  into  three  sec- 
tions, each  of  which  is  indispensable  for  the  success  of 
the  whole.  In  this  three-fold  organization  lies  the  open 
secret  of  the  solution  of  the  Social   Problem. 

The  Scheme  I  have  to  offer  consists  in  the  formation  of 
these  people  into  self-helping  and  self-sustaining  com- 
munities, each  being  a  kind  of  co-operative  society,  or 
patriarchal  family,  governed  and  disciplined  on  the  prin- 
ciples which  have  already  proved  so  effective  in  the  Sal- 
vation Army. 

These  communities  we  will  call,  for  v\^ant  of  a  better 
term,   Colonies.     There  will  be — 

(i)  The  City  Colony. 

(2)  The  Farm  Colony. 

(3)  The  Over-Sea  Colony. 

THE    CITY    COLONY 

By  the  City  Colony  is  meant  the  establishment,  in  the 
very  centre  of  the  ocean  of  misery  of  which  we  have  been 
speaking,  of  a  number  of  Institutions  to  act  as  Harbors 
of  Refuge  for  all  and  any  who  have  been  shipwrecked  in 
life,  character,  or  circumstances.  These  Harbors  will 
gather  up  the  poor,  destitute  creatures,  supply  their  im- 
mediate pressing  necessities,  furnish  temporary  employ- 
ment, inspire  them  with  hope  for  the  future,  and  com- 
mence at  once  a  course  of  regeneration  by  moral  and  re- 
ligious influences. 

From  these  Institutions,  which  are  hereafter  described, 
numbers  would,  after  a  short  time,  be  floated  off  to  per- 
manent employment,   or  sent    home  to  friends  happy  to 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  117 

receive  them  on  hearing  of  their  reformation.  All  who 
remain  on  our  hands  would,  by  varied  means,  be  tested 
as  to  their  sincerity,  industry,  and  honesty,  and  as  soon 
as  satisfaction  was  created,  be  passed  on  to  the  Colony 
of  the  second  class. 

THE    FARM    COLONY 

This  would  consist  of  a  settlement  of  the  Colonists  on 
an  estate  in  the  provinces,  in  the  culture  of  which  they 
would  find  employment  and  obtain  support.  As  the  race 
from  the  Country  to  the  City  has  been  the  cause  of  much 
of  the  distress  we  have  to  battle  with,  we  propose  to 
find  a  substantial  part  of  our  remedy  by  transferring 
those  same  people  back  to  the  country — that  is,  back 
again  to  "the  Garden!  " 

Here  the  process  of  reformation  of  character  would  be 
carried  forward  by  the  same  industrial,  moral,  and  relig- 
ious methods  as  have  already  been  commenced  in  the 
City,  especially  including  those  forms  of  labor  and  that 
knowledge  of  agriculture  which,  should  the  Colonist 
not  obtain  employment  in  this  country,  will  qualify  him 
for  pursuing  his  fortunes  under  more  favorable  circum-  • 
stances  in  some  other  land. 

From  the  Farm,  as  from  the  City,  there  can  be  no 
question  that  large  numbers,  resuscitated  in  health  and 
character,  would  be  restored  to  friends  up  and  down 
the  country.  Some  would  find  employment  in  their  own 
callings,  others  would  settle  in  cottages  on  a  small 
piece  of  land  that  we  should  provide,  or  on  Co-oper- 
ative Farms  which  we  intend  to  promote;  while  the 
great  bulk,  after  trial  and  training,  would  be  passed 
on  to  the  Foreign  Settlement,  which  would  constitute 
our  third  class — namely.   The  Over-Sea  Colony. 

THE    OVER-SEA    COLONY 

All    wl.o    have    given    attention    to     the     subject    are 


:iS  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

agreed  that  in  our  Colonies  in  South  Africa,  Canada, 
Western  Australia,  and  elsewhere,  there  are  millions  of 
acres  of  useful  land  to  be  obtained  almost  for  the  asking, 
capable  of  supporting  our  surplus  population  in  health 
and  comfort,  were  it  a  thousand  times  greater  than  it 
is.  We  propose  to  secure  a  tract  of  land  in  one  of  these 
countries,  prepare  it  for  settlement,  establish  in  it  au- 
thority, govern  it  by  equitable  laws,  assist  it  in  times  of 
necessity,  settling  it  gradually  with  a  prepared  people, 
and  so  secure  a  home  for  these  destitute   multitudes. 

The  Scheme,  in  its  entirety,  may  aptly  be  compared  to 
A  Great  Machine,  foundationed  in  the  lowest  slums  and 
purlieus  of  our  great  towns  and  cities,  drawing  up  into 
its  embrace  the  depraved  and  destitute  of  all  classes;  re- 
ceiving thieves,  harlots,  paupers,  drunkards,  prodigals, 
all  alike,  on  the  simple  conditions  of  their  being  will- 
ing to  work  and  to  conform  to  discipline.  Drawing  up 
these  poor  outcasts,  reforming  them,  and  creating  in 
them  habits  of  industry,  honesty,  and  truth;  teaching 
them  methods  by  which  alike  the  bread  that  perishes  and 
that  which  endures  to  Everlasting  Life  can  be  won;  for- 
warding them  from  the  City  to  the  Country,  and  there 
continuing  the  process  of  regeneration,  and  then  pouring 
them  forth  on  to  the  virgin  soils  that  await  their  coming 
in  other  lands,  keeping  hold  of  them  with  a  strong  gov- 
ernment, and  yet  making  them  free  men  and  women ; 
and  so  laying  the  foundations,  perchance,  of  another 
Empire  to  swell  to  vast  proportions  in  later  times. 
Why  not? 


;.-.-»  ^. 


CHAPTER  II 

TO    THE    rescue! THE    CITY    COLONY 

The*  first  section  of  my  Scheme  is  the  establishment  of 
a  Receiving  House  for  the  Destitute  in  every  great  cen- 
tre of  population.  We  start,  let  us  remember,  from  the 
individual,  the  ragged,  hungry,  penniless  man  who  con- 
fronts us  with  despairing  demands  for  food,  shelter,  and 
work.  Now,  I  have  had  some  two  or  three  years'  experi- 
ence in  dealing  with  this  class.  I  believe,  at  the  pres- 
ent moment,  the  Salvation  Army  supplies  more  food  and 
shelter  to  the  destitute  than  any  other  organization  in 
London,  and  it  is  the  experience  and  encouragement 
which  I  have  gained  in  the  working  of  these  Food  and 
Shelter  Depots  which  has  largely  encouraged  me  to  pro- 
pound this  scheme. 

Section    I.— FOOD    AND    SHELTER   FOR 
EVERY    MAN 

As  I  rode  through  Canada  and  the  United  States  some 
three  years  ago,  I  was  greatly  impressed  with  the  super- 
abundance of  food  which  I  saw  at  every  turn.  Oh, 
how  I  longed  that  the  poor,  starving  people,  and  the 
hungry  children  of  the  East  of  London  and  of  other  cen- 
tres of  our  destitute  populations,  should  come  into  the 
midst  of  this  abundance;  but  as  it  appeared  impossible 
for  me  to  take  them  to  it,  I  secretly  resolved  that  I  would 
endeavor  to  bring    some  of  it    to  them,     I  am  thankful 

119 


120 


IN   DARKEST   ENGLAND 


to  say  that  I  have  already  been  able  to  do  so  on  a  small 
scale,  and  hope  to  accomplish  it  ere  long  on  a  much 
vaster  one.  With  this  view,  the  first  Cheap  Food  Depot 
was  opened  in  the  East  of  London  two  and  a  half  years 
ago.  This  has  been  followed  by  others,  and  we  have 
now  three  establishments;    others  are  being  arranged  for. 

Since  the  commencement  in  1888,  we  have  supplied 
over  three  and  a  half  million  meals. 

Some  idea  can  be  formed  of  the  extent  to  which  these 
Food  and  Shelter  Depots  have  already  struck  their  roots 
into  the  strata  of  Society  which  it  is  proposed  to  bene- 
fit, by  the  following  figures,  which  give  the  quantities 
of  food  sold  during  the  year  at  our  Food  Depots: 


FOOD  SOLD  IN  DEPOTS  AND  SHELTERS  DURING  1889. 
Weight. 
192 J^  tons.. 


Article. 

Soup 

Bread 

Tea 

Coftee 

Cocoa 

Sugar 

Potatoes 

Flour 

Peaflour 

Oatmeal 

Rice 

B^ans , 

Onions  and  Parsnips 

Jam 

Marmalade 

Meat 

Milk 


15  cwt.. 

6  tons. 
25      " 
140      " 
18      " 
28%  " 

Z%  " 
12  " 
12  " 
12       " 

9      " 

6  " 
15      " 


Measure. 

116,400  gallons 

106,964  4-lb.  loaves. 

46,980  gallons 

13.949        "       

29,229        "       , 


Remarks. 


300 

bags 

2,800 

" 

180  sacks 

288 

36 

" 

120 

" 

240 

" 

240 

" 

2,880 

jars. 

1,920 

" 

14,300  quarts 

This  includes  returns  from  three  Food  Depots  and  five 
Shelters.  I  propose  to  multiply  their  number,  to  develop 
their  usefulness,  and  to  make  them  the  threshold  of  the 
whole  Scheme.  Those  who  have  already  visited  our 
Depots  will  understand  exactly  what  this  means.  The 
majority,  however,  of  the  readers  of  these  pages  have 
not  done  so,  and  for  them  it  is  necessary  to  explain 
what  they  are. 

At  each  of  our  Depots,  which  can  be  seen  by  anybody 
that  cares  to  take  the  trouble  to  visit  them,  there  are  two 
departments,    one    dealing    with    food,    the    other    with 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  121 

shelter.  Of  these  both  are  worked  together  and  minister 
to  the  same  individuals.  Many  come  for  food  who  do 
not  come  for  shelter,  althdugh  most  of  those  who  come 
for  shelter  also  come  for  food,  which  is  sold  on  terms 
to  cover,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  cost  price  and  work- 
ing expenses  of  the  establishment.  In  this  our  Food 
Depots  differ  from  the  ordinary  soup-kitchen3. 

There  is  no  gratuitous  distribution  of   victuals.      The 
following  is  our  Price  List: 

WHAT    IS    SOLD   AT    THE    FOOD    DEPOTS. 

FOR   A   CHILD. 

d. 

Coffee  or  Cocoa per  cup  % 

"  "       with  Bread  and  J  am  J4 


d. 

S  Dup per  basin  % 

"     with  Bread  ^ 


FOR   ADULTS. 


d. 

Soup Per  Basin  3^ 

"     With  Bread  i 

Potatoes Yq, 

Cabbage ^ 

Haricot  Beans j^ 

Boiled  Jam  Pudding J^ 

"       Plum      "         each  I 

Rice  "        % 

Baked  Plum      "        % 


d. 

Baked  Jam  Roll i^ 

Meat  Pudding  and  Potatoes 3 

Corned  Beef  "  2 

"      Mutton        "  2 

Coffee per  cup,  Vid.;  per  mug    i 

Cocoa "        }4d.  "  I 

Tea "         3^d.  "  i 

Bread  and  Butter,  Jam,  or  Marmalade 
per  slice  J^ 


Soup  in  own  Jugs,  id.  per  Quart. 
Ready  at  10  A.  M. 

A  certain  discretionary  power  is  vested  in  the  Officers 
in  charge  of  the  Depot,  and  they  can  in  very  urgent 
cases  give  relief,  but  the  rule  is  for  the  food  to  be  paid 
for,  and  the  financial  results  show  that  working  expenses 
are  just  about  covered. 

These  Cheap  Food  Depots,  I  have  no  doubt,  have  been 
and  are  of  great  service  to  numbers  of  hungry,  starving 
men,  women,  and  children,  at  the  prices  just  named, 
which  must  be  within  the  reach  of  all,  except  the  abso- 
lutely penniless;  but  it  is  the  Shelter  that  I  regard  as 
the  most  useful  feature  in  this  part  of  our  undertaking, 
for  if  anything  is  to  be  done  to  get  hold  of  those  who 
use  the  Depot,  some  more  favorable  opportunity  must 
be  afforded  than  is  offered  by  the  mere  coming  into  the 
food  store  to  get,  perhaps,   only  a  basin    of    soup.     This 


133  IN   DARKEST   ENGLAND 

part  of  the  Scheme  I  propose  to  extend  very  considerably. 
Suppose  that  you  are  a  casual  in  the  streets  of  London, 
homeless,  friendless,   weary  with   looking    for    work    all 
day  and  finding  none.     Night  comes  on.     Where  are  you 
to  go?     You  have  perhaps  only  a  few  coppers,  or  it  may 
be,  few  shillings,  left  of  the  rapidly  dwindling  store  of 
your  little  capital.     You  shrink    from    sleeping    in    the 
open  air;  you  equally  shrink  from  going  to  the  fourpenny 
Doss-house,  where,  in  the    midst    of    strange  and  ribald 
company,  you  may  be  robbed  of  the  remnant  of  the  money 
still  in  your  possession.     While  at  a  loss  as  to  what    to 
do,  someone  who  sees  you  suggests  that    you    should    go 
to  our  Shelter.     You  cannot,  of  course,  go  to  the  Casual 
Ward  of  the  Workhouse  as  long  as  you  have    any  money 
in    your    possession.     You     come  along    to    one  of    our 
Shelters.     On  entering  you  pay  fourpence,  and    are    free 
of  the  establishment  for  the  night.     You    can   come    in 
early  or  late.     The  company  begins    to    assemble    about 
five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.      In  the    women's    Shelter 
you  find  that  many  come  much  earlier    and    sit    sewing, 
reading,  or  chatting  in  the    sparely  furnished    but  well- 
warmed  loom  from  the  early  hours  of  the  afternoon  until 
bedtime. 

You  come  in,  and  you  get  a  large  pot  of  coffee,  tea,  or 
cocoa  and  a  hunk  of  bread.  You  can  go  into  the  wash- 
house,  where  you  can  have  a  wash  with  plenty  of  warm 
water  and  soap  and  towels  free.  Then,  after  having 
washed  and  eaten,  you  can  make  yourself  comfortable. 
You  can  write  letters  to  your  friends,  if  you  have  any 
friends  to  write  to,  or  you  can  read,  or  you  can  sit  quietly 
and  do  nothing.  A  eight  o'clock  the  Shelter  is  tolerably 
full,  and  then  begins  what  we  consider  to  be  the  indis- 
pensable feature  of  the  whole  concern.  Two  or  three 
hundred  men  in  the  men's  Shelter,  or  as  many  women  in 
the  women's  Shelter,   are    collected    together,    most    of 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  l2^ 

them  strange  to  each  other,  in  a  large  room.  They  are 
all  wretchedly  poor — what  are  you  to  do  with  them? 
This  is  what  we  do  with  them: 

We  hold  a  rousing  Salvation  meeting.  The  officer 
in  charge  of  the  Depot,  assisted  by  detachments  from 
the  Training  Homes,  conducts  a  jovial  free-and-easy 
social  evening.  The  girls  have  their  banjos  and  their 
tambourines,  and  for  a  couple  of  hours  you  have  as  lively 
a  meeting  as  you  will  find  in  London.  There  is 
prayer,  short  and  to  the  point;  there  are  addresses,  some 
delivered  by  the  leaders  of  the  meeting,  but  the  most 
of  them  the  testimonies  of  those  who  have  been  saved 
at  previous  meetings,  and  who,  rising  in  their  seats, 
tell  their  companions  their  experiences.  Strange  expe- 
riences they  often  are  of  those  who  have  been  down  in 
the  very  bottomless  depths  of  sin  and  vice  and  misery, 
but  who  have  found  at  last  firm  footing  on  which  to 
stand,  and  who  are,  as  they  say  in  all  sincerity,  "as 
happy  as  the  dav  is  long."  There  is  a  joviality  and  a 
genuine  good  fcc:ling  at  some  of  these  meetings  which 
is  refreshing  to  the  soul.  There  are  all  sorts  and  con- 
ditions of  men:  Casuals,  jail  birds,  Out-of-Works,  who 
have  come  there  for  the  first  time,  and  who  find  men 
who  last  week  or  last  month  were  even  as  they  them- 
selves are  now — still  poor,  but  rejoicing  in  a  sense  of 
brotherhood  and  a  consciousness  of  their  bein^  no  longer 
outcasts  and  forlorn  in  this  wide  world.  There  are  men 
who  have  at  last  seen  revive  before  them  a  hope  of  escap- 
ing from  that  dreadful  vortex  into  which  their  sins  and 
misfortunes  had  drawn  them,  and  being  restored  to  those 
comforts  that  they  had  feared  so  long  were  gone  forever; 
nay,  of  rising  to  live  a  true  and  Godly  life.  These  tell 
their  mates  how  this  has  come  about,  and  urge  all  who 
hear  them  to  try  for  themselves  and  see  whether  it  is  not  a 
good  and  happy  thing  to  be  soundly  saved.     In   the   in- 


124  IN   DARKEST  ENGLAND 

tervals  of  testimony — and  these  testimonies,  as  everyone 
will  bear  me  witness  who  has  ever  attended  any  of  our 
meetings,  are  not  long,  sanctimonious  lackadaisical 
speeches,  but  simple  confessions  of  individual  experience 
— there  are  bursts  of  hearty  melody.  The  conductor  of 
the  meeting  will  start  up  a  verse  or  two  of  a  hymn  illus- 
trative of  the  experiences  mentioned  by  the  last  speaker, 
or  one  of  the  girls  from  the  Training  Home  will  sing  a 
solo,  accompanying  herself  on  her  instrument,  while  all 
join  in  a  rattling  and  rollicking  chorus. 

There  is  no  compulsion  upon  anyone  of  our  dossers  to 
take  part  in  this  meeting;  they  do  not  need  to  come  in 
until  it  is  over;  but  as  a  simple  matter  of  fact,  they  do 
come  in.  Any  night  between  eight  and  ten  o'clock  you 
will  find  these  people  sitting  there,  listening  to  the 
exhortations  and  taking  part  in  the  singing,  many  of 
them,  no  doubt,  unsympathetic  enough,  but  nevertheless 
preferring  to  be  present  with  the  music  and  the  warmth, 
mildly  stirred,  if  only  by  curiosity,  as  the  various  tes- 
timonies are  delivered. 

Sometimes  these  testimonies  are  enough  to  rouse  the 
most  cynical  of  observers.  We  had  at  one  of  our  Shel- 
ters the  captain  of  an  ocean  steamer,  who  had  sunk  to 
the  depths  of  destitution  through  strong  drink.  He 
came  in  there  one  night  utterly  desperate,  and  was  taken 
in  hand  by  our  people — and  with  us  taking  in  hand  is  no 
mere  phrase,  for  at  the  close  of  our  meetings  our  officers 
go  from  seat  to  seat,  and  if  they  see  anyone  who  shows 
signs  of  being  affected  by  the  speeches  or  the  singing, 
at  once  sit  down  beside  him  and  begin  to  labor  with 
him  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  By  this  means  they 
are  able  to  get  hold  of  the  men  and  to  know  exactly 
where  +he  difficulty  lies,  what  the  trouble  is,  and  if  they 
do  nothing  else,  at    least    succeed    in    convincing    them 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  125 

that  there  Is  someone  who  cares  for  their  soul  and  would 
do  what  he  could  to  lend  them  a  helping  hand. 

The  captain  of  whom  I  was  speaking  was  got  hold  of 
in  this  way.  He  was  deeply  impressed,  and  was  induced 
to  abandon  once  and  for  all  his  habits  of  intemperance. 
From  that  meeting  he  went  an  altered  man.  He  regained 
his  position  in  the  merchant  service,  and  twelve  months 
afterwards  astonished  us  all  by  appearing  in  the  uniform 
of  a  captain  of  a  large  ocean  steamer,  to  testify  to  those 
who  were  there  how  low  he  had  been,  how  utterly  he 
had  lost  all  hold  on  Society  and  all  hope  of  the  future, 
when,  fortunately  led  to  the  Shelter,  he  found  friends, 
counsel,  and  salvation,  and  from  that  time  had  never 
rested  until  he  had  regained  the  position  which  he  had 
forfeited  b^  his  intemperance. 

The  meeting  over,  the  singing  girls  go  back  to  the 
Training  Home,  and  the  men  prepare  for  bed.  Our 
sleeping  arrangements  are  somewhat  primitive;  we  do 
not  provide  feather-beds,  and  when  you  go  into  our  dor- 
mitories, you  will  be  surprised  to  find  the  floor  covered 
by  what  looks  like  an  endless  array  of  packing-cases. 
These  are  our  beds,  and  each  of  them  forms  a  cubicle. 
There  is  a  mattress  laid  on  the  floor,  and  over  the  mat- 
tress a  leather  apron,  which  is  all  the  bedclothes  that 
we  find  it  possible  to  provide.  The  men  undress,  each 
by  the  side  of  his  packing-box,  and  go  to  sleep  under 
their  leather  covering.  The  dormitory  is  warmed  with 
hot-water  pipes  to  a  temperature  of  60  degrees,  and 
there  has  never  been  any  complaint  of  lack  of  warmth  on 
the  part  of  those  who  use  the  Shelter.  The  leather  can 
be  kept  perfectly  clean,  and  the  mattresses,  covered 
with  American  cloth,  are  carefully  inspected  every  day, 
so  that  no  stray  specimen  of  vermin  may  be  left  in  the 
place.  The  men  turn  in  about  ten  o'clock  and  sleep 
until  six.     We  have  never  any  disturbances  of  any  kind 


126  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

in  the  Shelters.  We  have  provided  accommodation 
now  for  several  thousand  of  the  most  helplessly  broken- 
down  men  in  London,  criminals  many  of  them,  mendi- 
cants, tramps,  those  who  are  among  the  filth  and  offscour- 
ing  of  all  things;  but  such  is  the  influence  that  is  estab- 
lished by  the  meeting  and  the  moral  ascendancy  of  our 
officers  themselves,  that  we  have  never  had  a  fight  on 
the  premises,  and  very  seldom  do  we  ever  hear  an  oath 
or  an  obscene  word.  Sometimes  there  has  been  trouble 
outside  the  Shelter,  when  men  insisted  upon  coming  in 
drunk  or  were  otherwise  violent;  but  once  let  them  come 
to  the  Shelter,  and  get  into  the  swing  of  the  concern, 
*nd  we  have  no  trouble  with  them.  In  the  mcwrning  they 
get  up  and  have  their  breakfast,  and,  after  a  short  serv- 
ice, go  off  their  various  ways. 

We  find  that  we  can  do  this — that  is  to  say,  we  can 
provide  coffee  and  bread  for  breakfast  and  for  supper, 
and  a  shake-down  on  the  floor  in  the  packing-boxes  I  have 
described  in  a  warm  dormitory  for   fourpence  a  head. 

I  propose  to  develop  these  Shelters,  so  as  to  afford 
every  man  a  locker,  in  which  he  could  store  any  little 
valuables  that  he  may  possess.  I  would  also  allow  him 
the  use  of  a  boiler  in  the  wash-house  with  a  hot  drying 
oven,  so  that  he  could  wash  his  shirt  over-night  and 
have  it  returned  to  him  dry  in  the  morning.  Only  those 
who  have  had  practical  experience  of  the  difficulty  of 
seeking  for  work  in  London  can  appreciate  the  advantages 
of  the  opportunity  to  get  your  shirt  washed  in  this  way 
— if  you  have  one.  In  Trafalgar  Square,  in  1887,  there 
were  few  things  that  scandalized  the  public  more  than 
the  spectacle  of  the  poor  people  camped  in  the  Square, 
-washing  their  shirts  in  the  early  morning  at  the  fount- 
ains. If  you  talk  to  any  men  who  have  been  on  the 
road  for  a  lengthened  period  they  will  tell  you  that  noth- 
ing hurts  their  self-respect  more  or  stands  more   fatally 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  "  127 

in  the  way  of  their  getting  a  job  than  the  impossibility 
of  getting  their  little  things  done  up  and  clean. 

In  our  poor  man's  "Home"  everyone  could  at  least 
keep  himself  clean  and  have  a  clean  shirt  to  his  back, 
in  a  plain  way,  no  doubt;  but  still  not  less  effective 
than  if  he  were  to  be  put  up  at  one  of  the  West  End 
hotels,  and  would  be  able  to  secure  anyway  the  necessa- 
ries of  life  while  being  passed  on  to  something  far  bet- 
ter.     This  is  the  first  step. 

SOME    SHELTER   TROPHIES 

Of  the  practical  results  which  have  followed  our  meth- 
ods of  dealing  with  the  outcasts  who  take  shelter  with 
us,  we  have  many  striking  examples.  Here  are  a  fevT, 
each  of  them  a  transcript  of  a  life  experience  relating  to 
men  who  are  now  active,  industrious  members  of  the 
community  upon  which,  but  for  the  agency  of  these  De- 
pots, they  would  have  been  preying  to  this  day: 

A.  S. — Born  in  Glasgow,  1825;  saved  at  Clerkenwell, 
May  19,  1889.  Poor  parents;  raised  in  a  Glasgow  Slum. 
Was  thrown  on  the  streets  at  seven  years  of  age,  be- 
came the  companion  and  associate  of  thieves,  and  drifted 
into  crime.  The  following  are  his  terms  of  imprison- 
ment: 14  days,  30  days,  30  days,  60  days,  60  days  (three 
times  in  succession),  4  months,  6  months  (twice),  9 
months,  18  months,  2  years,  6  years,  7  years  (twice),  14 
years;  40  years  3  months  and  6  days  in  the  aggregate. 
Was  flogged  for  violent  conduct  in  jail  8  times. 

W.  M.  ("Buff").— Born  in  Deptford,  1864.  Saved  at 
Clerkenwell,  March  31,  1889.  His  father  was  an  old 
Navy  man,  and  earned  a  decent  living  as  manager.  Was 
sober,  respectable,  and  trustworthy.  Mother  was  a  dis- 
reputable drunken  slattern,  a  curse  and  disgrace  to  hus- 
band and  family.  The  home  was  broken  up,  and  little 
Buff  was  given  over  to  the  evil  influences  of  his  de- 
praved mother.  His  7th  birthday  present  from  his  admir- 
ing parent  was  a  "quarten  o'  gin."  He  got  some  educa- 
tion at  the  One  Tun  Alley  Ragged  School,  but  when 
9    years    old    was    caught    apple-stealing,    and    sent    to 


128.  tN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

the  Industrial  School  at  liford  for  7  years.  Discharged 
at  the  end  of  his  term,  he  drifted  to  the  streets,  the 
casual  wards,  and  Metropolitan  jails,  every  one  of  whose 
interiors  he  is  familiar  with.  He  became  a  ringleader 
of  a  gang  that  infested  London;  a  thorough  mendicant 
and  ne'er-do-well;  a  pest  to  society.  Naturally  he  is  a 
born  leader,  and  one  of  those  spirits  that  command  a  fol- 
lowing; consequently,  when  he  got  Salvation,  the  major 
part  of  his  following  came  after  him  to  the  Shelter,  and 
eventually  to  God.  His  character  since  conversion  has 
been  altogether  satisfactory,  and  he  is  now  an  Orderly 
at  Whitechapel,  and  to  all  appearances  a  "true  lad." 

C.  W.  ("Frisco"). — Born  in  San  Francisco,  1862; 
saved  April  24,  1889.  Taken  away  from  home  at  the 
age  of  8  years,  and  made  his  way  to  Texas.  Here  he 
fook  up  life  amongst  the  Ranches  as  a  Cowboy,  and 
varied  it  with  occasional  trips  to  sea,  developing  into  a 
typical  brass  and  rowdy.  He  had  2  years  for  mutiny  at 
sea,  4  years  for  mule-stealing,  5  years  for  cattle-stealing, 
and  has  altogether  been  in  jail  for  13  years  and 
II  months.  He  came  over  to  England,  got  mixed  up 
with  thieves  and  casuals  here,  and  did  several  short  terms 
of  imprisonment.  He  was  met  on  his  release  at  Millbank 
by  an  old  chum  (Buff)  and  the  Shelter  Captain;  came 
to  Shelter,  got  saved,  and  has  stood  firm. 

H.  A. — Born  at  Deptford,  1850.  Saved  at  Clerken- 
well,  January  12th,  i88g.  Lost  mother  in  early  life,  step- 
mother difficulty  supervening,  and  a  propensity  to  misap- 
propriation of  small  things  developed  into  thieving. 
He  followed  the  sea,  became  a  hard  drinker,  a  foul- 
mouthed  blasphemer,  and  a  blatant  spouter  of  infidelity. 
He  drifted  about  for  years,  ashore  and  afloat,  and  eventu- 
ally reached  the  Shelter  stranded.  Here  he  sought  God, 
and  has  done  well.  This  summer  he  had  charge  of  a 
gang  of  haymakers  sent  into  the  country,  and  stood  the 
ordeal  satisfactorily.  He  seems  honest  in  his  profession, 
and  strives  patiently  to  follow  after  God.  He  is  at  the 
workshops. 

H.  S. — Born  at  A — ,  in  Scotland.  Like  most  Scotch 
lads,  although  parents  were  in  poor  circumstances,  he 
managed  to  get  a  good  education.  Early  in  life  he  took 
to  newspaper  work,    and   picked   up    the   details   of   the 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  129 

journalistic  profession  in  several  promi.:cr:t  papers  in  N. 
B.  Eventually  he  got  a  position  on  a  provincial  news- 
paper, and  having  put  in  a  course  at  Glasojow  University, 
graduated  B.  A.  there.  After  this  he  was  on  the  staff 
of  a  Welsh  paper.  He  married  a  decent  girl,  and  had 
several  little  ones,  but  giving  way  to  drink,  lost  posi- 
tion, wife,  family,  and  friends.  At  times  he  would 
struggle  up  and  recover  himself,  and  appears  generally  to 
have  been  able  to  secure  a  position,  but  again  and  again 
his  besetment  overcame  him,  and  each  time  he  would 
drift  lower  and  lower.  For  a  time  he  was  engaged  in 
secretarial  work  on  a  prominent  London  Charity,  but  fell 
repeatedly,  and  at  length  was  dismissed.  He  came  to 
us  an  utter  outcast,  was  sent  to  Shelter  and  Workshop, 
got  saved,  and  is  now  in  a  good  situation.  He  gives 
every  promise,  and  those  best  able  to  judge  seem  very 
sanguine  that  at  last  a  real  good  work  has  been  accom- 
plished in  him. 

F.  D. — Was  born  in  London,  and  brought  up  to  the  iron 
trade.  Held  several  good  situations,  losing  one  after 
another,  from  drink  and  irregularity.  On  one  occasion, 
with  ^20  in  his  pocket,  he  started  for  Manchester,  got 
drunk  there,  was  locked  up  and  fined  five  shillings,  and 
fifteen  shillings  costs;  t-his  he  paid,  and  as  he  was  leav- 
ing the  Court,  a  gentleman  stopped  him,  saying  that  he 
knew  his  father,  and  inviting  him  to  his  house;  how- 
ever, with  ^10  in  his  pocket,  he  was  too  independent, 
and  he  declined;  but  the  gentleman  gave  him  his 
address,  and  left  him.  A  few  days  squandered  his  cash,  and 
clothes  soon  followed,  all  disappearing  for  drink,  and 
then  without  a  coin  he  presented  himself  at  the  address 
given  to  him,  at  ten  o'clock  at  night.  It  turned  out  to 
be  his  uncle,  who  gave  him  £^0.  to  go  back  to  London, 
but  this  too  disappeared  for  liquor.  He  tramped  back 
to  London  utterly  destitute.  Several  nights  were  passed 
on  the  Embankment,  and  on  one  occasion  a  gentleman 
gave  him  a  ticket  for  the  Shelter;  this,  however,  he  sold 
for  2d.  and  had  a  pint  of  beer,  and  stopped  out  all  night. 
But  it  set  him  thinking,  and  he  determined  next  day  to 
raise  4d.  and  see  what  a  Shelter  was  like.  He  came  to 
Whitechapel,  became  a  regular  customer,  eight  months 
ago  got  saved,   and  is  now  doing  well. 

9 


130  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

F.  H. — Was  born  at  Birmingham,  1858.  Saved  at 
Whitechapel,  March  26th,  1890.  Father  died  in  his  in- 
fancy, mother  marrying  again.  The  stepfather  was  a 
drunken  navvy,  and  used  to  knock  the  mother  about,  and 
the  lad  was  left  to  the  streets.  At  12  years  of  age  he 
left  home,  and  tramped  to  Liverpool,  begging  his  way, 
and  sleeping  on  the  roadsides.  In  Liverpool  he  lived 
about  the  Docks  for  some  days,  sleeping  where  he  could. 
Police  found  him  and  returned  him  to  Birmingham;  his 
reception  being  an  unmerciful  thrashing  from  the 
drunken  stepfather.  He  got  several  jobs  as  errand-boy; 
remarkable  for  his  secret  pilferings,  and  two  years  later 
left  with  fifty  shillings  stolen  money,  and  reached  Mid- 
dlebrough  by  road.  Got  work  in  a  nail  factory,  staid 
nine  months,  then  stole  nine  shillings  from  fellow-lodger, 
and  again  took  the  road.  He  reached  Birmingham, 
and  finding  a  warrant  out  for  him,  joined  the  Navy. 
He  was  in  the  Impregnable  training-ship  three  years,  be- 
haved himself,  only  getting  "one  dozen,"  and  was  trans- 
ferred, with  character  marked  "good,"  to  the  h'07i  Duke'in 
the  China  seas;  soon  got  drinking,  and  was  locked  up  and 
imprisoned  for  riotous  conduct  in  almost  every  port  in 
the  stations.  He  broke  ship,  and  deserted  several  times, 
and  was  a  thorough  specimen  of  a  bad  British  tar.  He 
saw  jail  in  Singapore,  Hong  Kong,  Yokohama,  Shanghai, 
Canton,  and  other  places.  In  five  years  returned  home, 
and,  after  furlough,  joined  the  Belle  Isle  in  the  Irish 
station.  Whisky  here  again  got  hold  of  him,  and  excess 
ruined  his  constitution.  On  his  leave  he  had  married, 
and  on  his  discharge  joined  his  wife  in  Birmingham. 
For  some  time  he  worked  as  sweeper  in  the  market,  but 
two  years  ago  deserted  his  wife  and  family,  and  came  to 
London,  settled  down  to  a  loafer's  life,  lived  on  the 
streets  with  Casual  Wards  for  his  home.  Eventually 
came  to  Whitechapel  Shelter,  and  got  saved.  He  is  now 
a  trustworthy,  reliable  lad;  has  become  reconciled  to 
wife,  who  came  to  London  to  see  him,  and  he  bids  fair 
to  be  a  useful  man. 

J.  W.  S. — Born  in  Plymouth.  His  parents  are  respect- 
able people.  He  is  clever  at  his  business,  and  has  held 
good  situations.  Two  years  ago  he  came  to  London,  fell 
into   evil    courses,  and    took    to   drink.     Lost   situation 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  131 

after  situation,  and  kept  on  drinking;  lost  everything, 
and  came  to  the  streets.  He  found  out  Westminster 
Shelter,  and  eventually  got  savedj  his  parents  were  com- 
municated with,  and  help  and  clothes  forthcoming;  with 
Salvation  came  hope  and  energy;  he  got  a  situation  at 
Lewisham  (yd.  per  hour)  at  his  trade.  Four  months 
standing,  and  is  a  promising  Soldier,  as  well  as  a  respect- 
able mechanic. 

J.  T.— Born  in  Ireland;  well  educated  (commercially)  ; 
clerk  and  accountant.  Early  in  life  joined  the  Queen's 
Army,  and  by  good  conduct  worked  his  way  up.  Was 
orderly-room  clerk  and  paymaster's  assistant  in  his  regi- 
ment. He  led  a  stead}^  life  whilst  in  the  service,  and  at 
the  expiration  of  his  term  passed  into  the  Reserve  with 
a  "very  good"  character.  He  was  a  long  time  unem- 
ployed, and  this  appears  to  have  reduced  him  to  despair, 
and  so  to  drink.  He  sank  to  the  lowest  ebb,  and  came 
to  Westminster  in  a  deplorable  condition:  coatless,  hat- 
less,  shirtless,  dirty  altogether,  a  fearful  specimen  of 
what  a  man  of  good  parentage  can  be  brought  to.  After 
being  at  Shelter  some  time,  he  got  saved,  was  passed  to 
Workshops,  and  gave  great  satisfaction.  At  present  he 
is  doing  clerical  work  and  gives  satisfaction  as  a  work- 
man— a  good  influence  in  the  place. 

J.  S. — Born  in  London,  of  decent  parentage.  From  a 
child  he  exhibited  thieving  propensities;  soon  got  into  the 
hands  of  the  police,  cand  was  in  and  out  of  jail  continu- 
ally. He  led  the  life  of  a  confirmed  tramp,  and  roved 
all  over  the  United  Kingdom.  He  has  been  in  penal 
servitude  three  times,  and  his  last  term  was  for  seven 
years,  with  police  supervision.  After  his  release  he 
married  a  respectable  girl  and  tried  to  reform,  but  cir- 
cumstances were  against  him ;  character  he  had  none,  a 
jail  career  only  to  recommend  him,  and  so  he  and  his 
wife  eventually  drifted  to  destitution.  They  came  to 
the  Shelter,  and  asked  advice;  they  were  received,  and 
he  made  application  to  the  sitting  Magistrate  at  Clerk- 
enwell  as  to  a  situation,  and  what  he  ought  to  do.  The 
Magistrate  helped  him,  and  thanked  the  Salvation 
Army  for  its  efforts  in  behalf  of  him  and  such  as  he,  and 
asked  us  to  look  after  the  applicant.  A  little  work  was 
given  him,  and  after  a  time  a    good    situation   procured. 


132  rJ  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

To-day  they  have  a  good  time;  he  is  steadily  employed, 
and  both  are  serving  God,  holding  the  respect  and  confi- 
dence of  neighbors,   etc. 

E.  G. — Came  to  England  in  the  service  of  a  family  of 
position,  and  afterwards  was  butler  and  upper  servant  in 
several  houses  of  the  nobility.  His  health  broke  down, 
and  for  a  long  time  he  was  altogether  unfit  for  work. 
He  had  saved  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  but  the  cost 
of  doctors  and  the  necessaries  of  a  sick  man  soon  played 
havoc  with  his  little  store,  and  he  became  reduced  to 
penury  and  absolute  want.  For  some  time  he  was  in 
the  Workhouse,  and,  being  discharged,  he  was  advised 
to  go  to  the  Shelter.  He  was  low  in  health  as  well  as 
in  circumstances,  and  broken  in  spirit,  almost  despair- 
ing. He  was  lovingly  advised  to  cast  his  care  upon 
God,  and  eventually  he  was  converted.  After  some  time 
work  was  obtained  as  porter  in  a  City  warehouse.  Assi- 
duity and  faithfulness  in  a  year  raised  him  to  the  posi- 
tion of  traveler.  To-day  he  prospers  in  body  and  soul, 
retaining  the  respect  and  confidence  of  all  associated 
with  him. 

We  might  multiply  these  records,  but  those  given  show 
the  kind  of  results  attained. 

There's  no  reason  to  think  that  influences  which  have 
been  blessed  of  God  to  the  salvation  of  these  poor  fellows 
will  not  be  equally  efficacious  if  applied  on  a  wider 
scale  and  over  a  vaster  area.  The  thing  to  be  noted  in  all 
these  cases  is  that  it  was  not  the  mere  feeding  which  ef- 
fected the  result;  it  was  the  combination  of  the  feeding 
with  the  personal  labor  for  the  individual  soul.  Still,  if 
we  had  not  fed  them,  we  should  never  have  come  near 
enough  to  gain  any  hold  upon  their  hearts.  If  we  had 
merely  fed  them,  they  would  have  gone  away  next  day  to 
resume,  with  increased  energy,  the  predatory  and  vagrant 
life  which  they  had  been  leading.  But  when  our  Feed- 
ing and  Shelter  Depots  brought  them  to  close  quarters, 
our  ofiicers  were  literally  able  to  put  their  arms  round 
their  necks  and  plead  with  them  as  brethren  who  had  gone 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  133 

astray.  We  told  them  that  their  sins  and  sorrows  had  not 
shut  them  out  from  the  love  of  the  Everlasting  Father, 
who  had  sent  us  to  them  to  help  them  with  all  the 
power  of  our  strong  organization,  of  the  Divine  authority 
of  which  we  never  feel  so  sure  as  when  it  is  going  forth 
to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost. 

Section    II.— WORK    FOR   THE   OUT-OF-WORKS— 
THE  FACTORY 

The  foregoing,  it  will  be  said,  is  all  very  well  for  your 
outcast  when  he  has  got  fourpence  in  his  pocket,  but 
what  if  he  has  not  got  his  fourpence?  What  if  you  are 
confronted  with  a  crowd  of  hungry,  desperate  wretches, 
without  even  a  penny  in  their  pouch,  demanding  food 
and  shelter?  This  objection  is  natural  enough,  and  has 
been  duly  considered  from  the  first. 

I  propose  to  establish  in  connection  with  every  Food 
and  Shelter  Depot  a  Workshop  or  Il^abor  Yard,  in  which 
any  person  who  comes  destitute  and  starving  will  be  sup- 
plied with  sufficient  work  to  enable  him  to  earn  the 
fourpence  needed  for  his  bed  and  board.  This  is  a  funda- 
mental feature  of  the  Scheme,  and  one  which  I  think 
will  commend  it  to  all  those  who  are  anxious  to  benefit 
the  poor  by  enabling  them  to  help  themselves  without 
the  demoralizing  intervention  of  charitable  relief. 

Let  us  take  our  stand  for  a  moment  at  the  door  qf  one 
of  our  Shelters.  There  comes  along  a  grimy,  ragged,  foot- 
sore tramp,  his  feet  bursting  out  from  the  sides  of  his 
shoes,  his  clothes  all  rags,  with  filthy  shirt  and  tow- 
seled  hair.  He  has  been,  he  tells  you,  on  the  tramp 
for  the  last  three  weeks,  seeking  work  and  finding  none, 
slept  last  night  on  the  Embankment,  and  wants  to  know 
if  you  can  give  him  a  bite  and  a  sup,  and  shelter  for 
the  night.      Has  he    any  money?      Not    he;   he    probably 


134  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Spent  the  last  penny  he  begged  or  earned  in  a  pipe  of 
tobacco,  with  which  to  dull  the  cravings  of  his  hungry 
stomach.     What  are  you  to  do  with  this  man? 

Remember  this  is  no  fancy  sketch — it  is  a  typical 
case.  There  are  hundreds  and  thousands  of  such  appli- 
cants. Anyone  who  is  at  all  familiar  with  life  in  Lon- 
don and  our  other  large  towns,  will  recognize  that  gaunt 
figure  standing  there  asking  for  bread  and  shelter,  or  for 
work  by  which  he  can  obtain  bcth.  What  can  we  do 
with  him?  Before  him  Society  stands  paralyzed,  quiet- 
ing its  conscience  every  now  and  then  by  an  occasional 
dole  of  bread  and  soup,  varied  with  the  semi-criminal 
treatment  of  the  Casual  Ward,  until  the  manhood  is 
crushed  out  of  the  man,  and  you  have  in  your  hands  a 
reckless,  despairing,  spirit-broken  creature,  with  not  even 
an  aspiration  to  rise  above  his  miserable  circumstances, 
covered  with  vermin  and  filth,  sinking  ever  lower  and 
lower,  until  at  last  he  is  hurried  out  of  sight  in  the 
rough  shell  which  carries  him  to  a  pauper's  grave. 

I  propose  to  take  that  man,  put  a  strong  arm  round 
him,  and  extricate  him  from  the  mire  in  which  he  is  all 
but  suffocated.  As  a  first  step  we  will  say  to  him,  "You 
are  hungry,  here  is  food;  you  are  homeless,  here  is  a 
shelter  for  your  head;  but  remember  you  must  work  for 
your  rations.  This  is  not  charity;  it  is  work  for  the 
workless,  help  for  those  who  cannot  help  themselves. 
There  is  the  labor-shed,  go  and  earn  your  fourpence,  and 
then  come  in  out  of  the  cold  and  the  wet  into  the  warm 
shelter;  here  is  your  mug  of  coffee  and  your  great  chunk 
of  bread,  and  after  you  have  finished  these  there  is  a 
meeting  going  on  in  full  swing,  with  its  joyful  music  and 
hearty  human  intercourse.  There  are  those  who  pray  for 
you  and  with  you,  and  will  make  you  feel  yourself  a 
brother  amoBg^,men.  There  is  your  shake-down  on  the 
floor^  where  you  will  have  your  warm,  c^uiet  bed,  undi§? 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  135 

turbed  by  the  ribaldry  and  curses  with  which  you  have 
been  familiar  too  long.  There  is  the  wash-house,  where 
you  can  have  a  thorough  wash-up  at  last,  after  all  these 
days  of  unwashedness.  There  is  plenty  of  soap  and 
warm  water  and  clean  towels;  there,  too,  you  can  wash 
your  shirt  and  have  it  dried  while  you  sleep.  In  the 
morning  when  you  get  up  there  will  be  breakfast  for  you, 
and  your  shirt  will  be  dry  and  clean.  Then,  when  you 
are  washed  and  rested,  and  are  no  longer  faint  with 
hunger,  you  can  go  and  seek  a  job,  or  go  back  to  the 
Labor  Shop  until  something  better  turn  up." 

But  where  and  how? 

Now  let  me  introduce  you  to  our  Labor  Yard.  Here 
is  no  pretense  of  charity  beyond  the  charity  which  gives 
a  man  remunerative  labor.  It  is  not  our  business  to 
pay  men  wages.  What  we  propose  is  to  enable  those, 
male  or  female,  who  are  destitute,  to  earn  their  rations 
and  do  enough  work  to  pay  for  their  lodging  until  they 
are  able  to  go  out  into  the  world  and  earn  wages  for 
themselves.  There  is  no  compulsion  upon  anyone  to 
resort  to  our  shelter,  but  if  a  penniless  man  wants  food, 
he  must,  as  a  rule,  do  work  sufficient  to  pay  for  what 
he  has  of  that  and  of  other  accommodation.  I  say  as  a 
rule,  because,  of  course,  our  Officers  will  be  allowed  to 
make  exceptions  in  extreme  cases;  but  tie  rule  will  be 
first  work,  then  eat.  And  that  amount  of  work  will  be 
exacted  rigorously.  It  is  that  which  distinguishes  this 
Scheme  from  mere  charitable  relief. 

I  do  not  wish  to  have  any  hand  in  establishing  a  new 
centre  of  demoralization.  I  do  not  want  my  customers 
to  be  pauperized  by  being  treated  to  anything  which 
they  do  not  earn.  To  develop  self-respect  in  the  man, 
to  make  him  feel  that  at  last  he  has  got  his  foot 
planted  on  the  first  rung  of  the  ladder  which  leads  up- 
wards, is  vitally  important,  and  this  cannot  be  done  un- 


136  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

less  the  bargain  between  him  and  me  is  strictly  carried 
out.  So  much  coffee,  so  much  bread,  so  much  shelter, 
so  much  warmth  and  light  from  me,  but  so  much  labor 
in  return  from  him. 

What  labor?  it  is  asked.  For  answer  to  this  question 
I  would  like  to  take  you  down  to  our  Industrial  Work- 
shops in  Whitechapel.  There  you  will  see  the  Scheme 
in  experimental  operation.  What  we  are  doing  there  we 
propose  to  do  everywhere  up  to  the  extent  of  the  neces- 
sity, and  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  fail  elsewhere 
if  we  can  succeed  there. 

Our  Industrial  Factory  at  Whitechapel  was  established 
this  Spring.  We  opened  it  on  a  very  small  scale.  It 
has  developed  until  we  have  nearly  ninety  men  at  work. 
Some  of  these  are  skilled  workmen  who  are  engaged  in 
carpentry.  The  particular  job  they  have  now  in  hand  is 
the  making  of  benches  for  the  Salvation  Army.  Others 
are  engaged  in  mat-making,  some  are  cobblers,  others 
painters,  and  so  forth.  This  trial  effort  has,  so  far,  an- 
swered admirably.  No  one  who  is  taken  on  comes  for  a 
permanency.  So  long  as  he  is  willing  to  work  for  his 
rations  he  is  supplied  with  materials  and  provided  with 
skilled  superintendents.  The  hours  of  work  are  eight 
per  day.  Here  are  the  rules  and  regulations  under  which 
the  work  is  carried  on  at  present: 

THE  SALVATION  ARMY  SOCIAL  REFORM  WING 

Temporary  Headquarters, 

36,  Upper  Thames  Street,   London,   E.   C. 

CITY  INDUSTRIAL  WORKSHOPS 

Objects. — These  workshops  are  open  for  the  relief  of 
the  unemployed  and  destitute,  the  object  being  to  make 
it  unnecessary  for  the  homeless  or  workless  to  be  com- 
pelled to  go  to  the  Workhouse  or  Casual  Ward,  food  and 
shelter    being    provided    for  them  in  exchange  for  work 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  137 

done   by  them,  until    they  can    procure  work    for    them- 
selves, or  it  can  be  found  for  them  elsewhere. 

Plan  of  Operation. — All  those  applying  for  assistance 
will  be  placed  in  what  is  termed  the  first  class.  They 
must  be  willing  to  do  any  kind  of  work  allotted  to  them. 
While  they  remain  in  the  first  class,  they  shall  be  en- 
titled to  three  meals  a  day  and  shelter  for  the  night, 
and  will  be  expected  in  return  to  cheerfully  perform  the 
work  allotted  to  them. 

Promotions  will  be  made  from  this  first  class  to  the 
second  class  of  all  those  considered  eligible  by  the  La- 
bor Directors.  They  will,  in  addition  to  the  food  and 
shelter  above  mentioned,  receive  sums  of  mioney  up  to 
5s.  at  the  end  of  the  week,  for  the  purpose  of  assisting 
them  to  provide  themselves  with  tools,  to  get  work  out- 
side. 

Regulations. — No  smoking,  drinking,  bad  language,  or 
conduct  calculated  to  demoralize  will  be  permitted  on 
the  factory  premises.  No  one  under  the  influence  of 
drink  will  be  admitted.  Any  one  refusing  to  work,  or 
guilty  of  bad  conduct,  will  be  required  to  leave  the  prem- 
ises. 

Hours  of  Work. — 7  a.  m.  to  8.30  a.  m.  ;  9  a.  m.  to  i 
p.  M.  j  2  p.  M.  to  5.30  p.  M.  Doors  will  be  closed  5  min- 
utes after  7,  9,  and  2  p.  m.  Food  Checks  will  be  given 
to  all  as  they  pass  out  at  each  meal-time.  Meals  and 
Shelter  provided  at  272,  Whitechapel  Road. 

Our  practical  experience  shows  that  we  can  provide 
work  by  which  a  man  can  earn  his  rations.  We  shall  be 
careful  not  to  sell  the  goods  so  manufactured  at  less 
than  the  market  prices.  In  firewood,  for  instance,  we 
have  endeavored  to  be  rather  above  the  average  than  be- 
low it.  As  stated  elsewhere,  we  are  firmly  opposed  to 
injuring  one  class  of  workmen  while    helping    another. 

Attempts  on  somewhat  similar  lines  to  those  now  be- 
ing described  have  hitherto  excited  the  liveliest  feelings 
of  jealousy  on  the  part  of  the  Trade  Unions  and  represent- 
atives of    labor.     They  rightly  consider    it    unfair    that 


138  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

labor  partly  paid  for  out  of  the  Rates  and  Taxes,  or  Dy 
Charitable  Contributions,  should  be  put  upon  the  market 
at  less  than  market  value,  and  so  compete  unjustly  with 
the  production  of  those  who  have  in  the  first  instance  to 
furnish  an  important  quota  of  the  funds  by  which  these 
Criminal  or  Pauper  workers  are  supported.  No  such 
jealousy  can  justly  exist  in  relation  to  our  Scheme,  see- 
ing that  we  are  endeavoring  to  raise  the  standard  of  labor 
and  are  pledged  to  a  war  to  the  death  against  sweating 
in  every  shape  and  form. 

But,  it  will  be  asked,  how  do  these  Out-of-Works  con- 
duct themselves  when  you  get  them    into    the    Factory? 

Upon  this  point  I  have  a  very  satisfactory  report  to 
render.  Many,  no  doubt,  are  below  par,  underfed,  and 
suffering  from  ill  health,  or  the  consequence  of  their  in- 
temperance. Many  also  are  old  men,  who  have  been 
crowded  out  of  the  labor  market  by  the  younger  gen- 
eration. But,  without  making  too  many  allowances  on 
these  grounds,  I  may  fairly  say  that  these  men  have 
shown  themselves  not  only  anxious  and  willing,  but  able 
to  work.     Our  Factory  Superintendent  reports: 

Of  loss  of  time  there  has  practically  been  none  since 
the  opening,  June  29th.  Each  man  during  his  stay,  with 
hardly  an  exception,  has  presented  himself  punctually 
at  opening  time  and  worked  more  or  less  assiduously  the 
whole  of  the  labor  hours.  The  morals  of  the  men  have 
been  good;  in  not  more  than  three  instances  has  there 
been  an  overt  act  of  disobedience,  insubordination,  or 
mischief.  The  men,  as  a  whole,  are  uniformly  civil, 
willing,  and  satisfied;  they  are  all  fairly  industrious; 
some,  and  that  not  a  few,  are  assiduous  and  energetic. 
The  Foremen  have  had  no  serious  complaints  to  make  or 
delinquencies  to  report. 

On  the  15th  of  August  I  had  a  return  made  of  the 
names  and  trades  and  mode  of  employment  of  the  men 
?Lt  work.     Of  the  forty  in  the  shops  at  that  moment,  eight 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  139 

were  carpenters,  twelve  laborers,  two  tailors,  two  sail- 
ors, three  clerks,  two  engineers,  while  among  the  rest 
was  a  shoemaker,  two  grocers,  a  cooper,  a  sailmaker,  a 
musician,  a  painter,  and  a  stonemason.  Nineteen  of  these 
were  employed  in  sawing,  cutting,  and  tying  up  firewood, 
six  were  making  mats,  seven  making  sacks,  and  the  rest 
were  employed  in  various  odd  jobs.  Among  them  was  a 
Russian  carpenter  who  could  not  speak  a  word  of  English. 
The  whole  place  is  a  hive  of  industry  which  fills  the 
hearts  of  those  who  go  to  see  it  with  hope  that  something 
is  about  to  be  done  to  solve  the  difficulty  of  the  unem- 
ployed. 

Although  our  Factories  will  be  permanent  institutions, 
they  will  not  be  anything  more  than  temporary  resting- 
places  to  those  who  avail  themselves  of  their  advantages. 
They  are  harbors  of  refuge  into  which  the  storm-tossed 
workman  may  run  and  re-fit,  so  that  he  may  again  push 
out  to  the  ordinary  sea  of  labor  and  earn  his  living. 
The  establishment  of  these  Industrial  Factories  seems 
to  be  one  of  the  most  obvious  duties  of  those  who  would 
effectually  deal  with  the  Social  Problem.  They  are  as 
indispensable  a  link  in  the  chain  of  deliverance  as  the 
Shelters,  but  they  are  only  a  link,  and  not  a  stopping- 
place.  And  we  do  not  propose  that  they  should  be  re- 
garded as  anything  but  stepping-stones    to  better  things. 

These  Shops  will  also  be  of  service  for  men  and  women 
temporarily  unemployed  who  have  families,  and  who 
possess  some  sort  of  a  home.  In  numerous  instances,  if 
by  any  means  these  unfortunates  could  find  bread  and 
rent  for  a  few  weeks,  they  would  tide  over  their  difficul- 
ties, and  an  untold  amount  of  misery  would  be  averted. 
In  such  cases  Work  would  be  supplied  at  their  own  homes 
where  preferred,  especially  for  the  women  and  children, 
and  such  remuneration  would  be  aimed  at  as  would  sup- 
ply the    immediate    necessities    of    the  hour.     To    those 


140  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

who  nave  rent  to  pay  and  families  to  support,  something 
beyond  rations  would  be  indispensable. 

The  Labor  Shops  will  enable  us  to  work  out  our  Anti- 
Sweating  experiments.  For  instance,  we  propose  at 
once  to  commence  manufacturing  match-boxes,  for  which 
we  shall  aim  at  giving  nearly  treble  the  amount  at 
present  paid  to  the  poor  starving  creatures  engaged  in 
this  work. 

In  all  these  workshops  Our  success  will  depend  upon  the 
extent  to  which  we  are  able  to  establish  and  maintain 
in  the  minds  of  the  workers  sound  moral  sentiments  and 
to  cultivate  a  spirit  of  hopefulness  and  aspiration.  We 
shall  continually  seek  to  impress  upon  them  the  fact  that 
while  we  desire  to  feed  the  hungry,  and  clothe  the 
naked,  and  provide  shelter  for  the  shelterless,  we  are 
still  more  anxious  to  bring  about  that  regeneration  of 
heart  and  life  which  is  essential  to  their  future  happi- 
ness and  well-being. 

But  no  compulsion  will  for  a  moment  be  allowed  with 
respect  to  religion.  The  man  who  professes  to  love  and 
serve  God  will  be  helped  because  of  such  profession,  and 
the  man  who  does  not  will  be  helped  in  the  hope  thai 
he  will,  sooner  or  later,  in  gratitude  to  God,  do  the  same; 
but  there  will  be  no  melancholy  misery-making  for  any. 
There  is  no  sanctimonious  long  face  in  the  Army.  We 
talk  freely  about  Salvation,  because  it  is  to  us  the  very 
light  and  joy  of  our  existence.  We  are  happy,  and  we 
wish  others  to  share  our  joy.  We  know  by  our  own  ex- 
perience that  life  is  a  very  different  thing  when  we  have 
found  the  peace  of  God,  and  are  working  together  with 
Him  for  the  salvation  of  the  world,  instead  of  toiling 
for  the  realization  of  worldly  ambition  or  the  amassing 
of  earthly  gain. 


AND  THE  WAY  OU 1  141 

Section     III.— THE     REGIMENTATION     OF     THE 
UNEMPLOYED 

When  we  have  got  the  homeless,  penniless  tramp 
washed,  and  housed,  and  fed  at  the  Shelter,  and  have  se- 
cured him  the  means  of  earning  his  fourpence  by  chop- 
ping firewood,  or  making  mats,  or  cobbling  the  shoes  of 
his  fellow-laborers  at  the  Factory,  we  have  next  to  seri- 
ously address  ourselves  to  the  problem  of  how  to  help 
him  to  get  back  into  the  regular  ranks  of  industry.  The 
Shelter  and  the  Factory  are  but  stepping-stones,  which 
have  this  advantage,  they  give  us  time  to  look  round 
and  to  see  what  there  is  in  a  man  and  what  we  can  make 
of  him. 

The  first  and  most  obvious  thing  to  do  is  to  ascertain 
whether  there  is  any  demand  in  the  regular  market  for 
the  labor  which  is  thus  thrown  upon  our  hands.  In  order 
to  ascertain  this,  I  have  already  established  a  Labor 
Bureau,  the  operations  of  which  I  shall  at  once  largely 
extend,  at  which  employers  can  register  their  needs,  and 
workmen  can  register  their  names  and  the  kind  of  work 
they  can  do. 

At  present  there  is  no  labor  exchange  in  existence  in 
this  country.  The  columns  of  the  daily  newspaper  are 
the  only  substitute  for  this  much-needed  register.  It  is 
one  of  the  many  painful  consequences  arising  from  the 
overgrowth  of  cities.  In  a  village,  where  everybody 
knows  everybody  else,  this  necessity  does  not  exist.  If 
a  farmer  wants  a  couple  of  extra  men  for  mowing  or 
some  more  women  for  binding  at  harvest-time,  he  runs 
over  in  his  mind  the- names  of  every  available  person 
in  the  parish.  Even  in  a  small  town  there  is  little 
difficulty  in  knowing  who  wants  employment.  But  in 
the  cities  this  knowledge  is  not  available;  hence  we 
constantly  hear  of  persons  who  would  be  very  glad  to 
employ  labor  for  odd  jobs  in  an  occasional  stress  of  work, 


142  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

while  at  the  same  time  hundreds  of  persons  are  starving 
for  want  of  work  at  another  end  of  the  town.  To  meet 
this  evil,  the  laws  of  Supply  and  Demand  have  created 
the  Sweating  Middlemen,  who  farm  out  the  unfortunates 
and  charge  so  heavy  a  commission  for  their  share  that 
the  poor  wretches  who  do  the  work  receive  hardly  enough 
to  keep  body  and  soul  together.  I  propose  to  change 
all  this  by  establishing  registers  which  will  enable  us  to 
lay  our  hands  at  a  moment's  notice  upon  all  the  unem- 
ployed men  in  a  district  in  any  particular  trade.  In  this 
way  we  should  become  the  universal  intermediary  be- 
tween those  who  have  no  employment  and  those  who 
want  workmen. 

In  this  we  do  not  propose  to  supersede  or  interfere 
with  the  regular  Trade  Unions.  Where  Unions  exist  we 
should  place  ourselves  in  every  case  in  communication 
with  their  officials.  But  the  most  helpless  mass  of  mis- 
ery is  to  be  found  among  the  unorganized  laborers  who 
have  no  Union,  and  who  are,  therefore,  the  natural  prey 
of  the  middleman.  Take,  for  instance,  one  of  the  most 
wretched  classes  of  the  community,  the  poor  fellows  who 
perambulate  the  streets  as  Sandwich  Men.  These  are 
farmed  out  by  certain  firms.  If  you  wish  to  send  fifty  or 
a  hundred  men  through  London  carrying  boards  an- 
nouncing the  excellence  of  your  goods,  you  go  to  an  ad- 
vertising firm,  who  will  undertake  to  supply  you  with  as 
many  sandwich  men  as  you  want  for  two  shillings  or 
half  a  crown  a  day.  The  men  are  forthcoming,  your 
goods  are  advertised,  you  pay  your  money,  but  how  much 
of  that  goes  to  the  men?  About-  one  shilling,  or  one 
shilling  and  threepence;  the  rest  goes  to  the  middle- 
man. I  propose  to  supersede  this  middleman  by  forming 
a  Co-operative  Association  of  Sandwich  Men.  At  every 
Shelter  there  would  be  a  Sandwich  Brigade  ready  in  any 
numbers  when  wanted.     The  cost  of  registration  and  or- 


AND  THE  WAY  out  UW 

ganization,  which  the  men  would  gladly  pay,  need  not 
certainly  amount  to  more  than  a  penny  in  the  shilling. 
All  that  is  needed  is  to  establish  a  trustworthy  and  dis- 
interested centre  round  which  the  unemployed  can  group 
themselves,  and  which  will  form  the  nucleus  of  a  great 
Co-operative  Self-helping  Association.  The  advantages 
of  such  a  Bureau  are  obvious.  But  in  this,  also,  I  do 
not  speak  from  theory.  I  have  behind  me  the  experi- 
ence of  seven  months  of  labor  both  in  England  and  Aus- 
tralia. In  London  we  have  a  registration  office  in  Up- 
per Thames  Street,  where  the  unemployed  come  every 
morning  in  droves  to  register  their  names  and  to  see 
whether  they  can  obtain  situations.  In  Australia,  I  see, 
it  was  stated  in  the  House  of  Assembly  that  our  Officers 
had  been  instrumental  in  finding  situations  for  no  less 
than  one  hundred  and  thirty-two  "Out-of-Works"  in  a  few 
days.  Here,  in  London,  we  have  succeeded  in  obtaining 
employment  for  a  great  number,  although,  of  course,  it 
is  beyond  our  power  to  help  all  those  who  apply.  We 
have  sent  haymakers  down  to  the  country,  and  there  is 
every  reason  to  believe  that  when  our  organization  is 
better  known,  and  in  more  extended  operation,  we  shall 
have  a  great  labor  exchange  between  town  and  country, 
so  that  when  there  is  scarcity  in  one  place  and  conges- 
tion in  another,  there  will  be  information  immediately 
sent,  so  that  the  surplus  labor  can  be  drafted  into  those 
districts  where  labor  is  wanted.  For  instance,  in  the 
harvest  seasons,  with  changeable  weather,  it  is  quite  a 
common  occurrence  for  the  crops  to  be  seriously  dam- 
aged for  want  of  laborers,  while  at  the  same  time  there 
will  be  thousands  wandering  about  in  the  big  towns  and 
cities  seeking  work,  but  finding  no  one  to  hire  them. 
Extend  this  system  all  over  the  world,  and  make  it  not 
only  applicable  to  the  transfer  of  workers  between  the 
towns    and    the    provinces,    but    between    Country    and 


144  IN  Dx\RKEST  ENGLAND 

Country,  and  it  is  impossible  to  exaggerate  tlie  enormous 
advantages  which  would  result.  The  officer  in  charge 
of  our  experimental  Labor  Bureau  sends  me  the  following 
notes  as  to  what  has  already  been  done  through  the  agency 
of  the  Upper  Thames  Street  office; 

SALVATION  ARMY  SOCIAL  REFORM  WING 


LABOR    BUREAU 

Bureau   opened  June  i8th,  1890.     The    following    are 
particulars  of  transactions  up  to  September  26th,   1890: 


Applications  for  Employment— Men 2462 

"  "  "  Women 208 


2670 


Applications  from  Employers  for  Men 128 

"  "  "  "     Women 59 

_^ 

Sent  to  Work— Men 301 

"  "         Women 68 

369 

Permanent  Situations 146 

Temporary  Employment,  viz: — Boardmen,  Cleaners,  etc.  223 
Sent  to  Workshop  in  Hanbury  Street 165 

Section  IV.— THE  HOUSEHOLD  SALVAGE 
BRIGADE 

It  is  obvious  that  the  moment  you  begin  to  find  work 
for  the  unemployed  labor  of  the  community,  no  matter 
what  you  do  b}^  way  of  the  registration  and  bringing  to- 
gether of  those  who  want  work  and  those  who  want 
workers,  there  will  still  remain  a  vast  residuum  of  un- 
employed, and  it  will  be  the  duty  of  those  who  under- 
take to  deal  with  the  question  to  devise  means  for  secur- 
ing them  employment. 

Many  things  are  possible  when  there  is  a  directing  in- 
telligence at  headquarters  and  discipline  in  the  rank  and 
file,  which  would  be  utterly  impossible  when  everyone  is 
let  to  go  where  he  pleases,  when  ten  men  are  running  for 
one  man's  job,  and  when  no  one  can  be    depended    upon 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  145 

to  be  in  the  way  at  the  time  he  is  wanted.  When  my 
Scheme  is  carried  out,  there  will  be  in  every  populous 
centre  a  Captain  of  Industry,  an  Officer  specially  charged 
with  the  regimentation  of  unorganized  labor,  who  would 
be  continually  on  the  alert,  thinking  how  best  to  utilize 
the  waste  human  material  in  his  district.  It  is  contrary 
to  all  previous  experience  to  suppose  that  the  addition 
of  so  much  trained  intelligence  will  not  operate  bene- 
ficially in  securing  the  disposal  of  a  commodity  which  is 
at  present  a  drug  in  the  market. 

Robertson,  of  Brighton,  used  frequently  to  remark  that 
every  truth  was  built  up  of  two  apparent  contradictory 
propositions.  In  the  same  way  I  may  say  that  the  solu- 
tion of  every  social  difficulty  is  to  be  found  in  the  dis- 
covery of  two  corresponding  difficulties.  It  is  like  the 
puzzle  maps  of  children.  When  you  are  putting  one  to- 
gether, you  suddenly  come  upon  some  awkward  piece  that 
will  not  fit  in  anywhere,  but  you  do  not  in  disgust  and 
despair  break  your  piece  into  fragments  or  throw  it 
away.  On  the  contrary,  you  keep  it  by  you,  knowing 
that  before  long  you  will  discover  a  number  of  other 
pieces  which  it  will  be  impossible  to  fit  in  until  you  fix 
your  unmanageable,  unshapely  piece  in  the  centre.  Now, 
in  the  work  of  piecing  together  the  fragments  which  lie 
scattered  round  the  base  of  our  social  system,  we  must 
not  despair  because  we  have  in  the  unorganized,  un- 
trained laborers  that  which  seems  hopelessly  out  of  fit 
with  everything  round.  There  must  be  something  cor- 
responding to  it  which  is  equally  useless  until  he  can  be 
brought  to  bear  upon  it.  In  other  words,  having  got  one 
difficulty  in  the  case  of  the  Out-of-Works,  we  must  cast 
about  to  find  another  difficulty  to  pair  off  against  it,  and 
then  out  of  two  difficulties  will  arise  the  solution  of  the 
problem. 

We  shall  not  have   far  to  seek  before  we  discover  in 

10 


146  -         IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

every  town  and  in  every  country  the  corresponding  ele- 
ment to  our  unemployed  laborer.  We  have  waste  labor 
on  the  one  hand;  we  have  waste  commodities  on  the 
other.  About  waste  land  I  shall  speak  in  the  next  chap- 
ter; I  am  concerned  now  solely  with  waste  commodities. 
Herein  we  have  a  means  of  immediately  employing  a 
large  number  of  men  under  conditions  which  will  enable 
us  to  permanently  provide  for  many  of  those  whose  hard 
lot  we  are  now  considering. 

I  propose  to  establish  in  every  large  town  what  I  may 
call  "A  Household  Salvage  Brigade,"  a  civil  force  of 
organized  collectors,  who  will  patrol  the  whole  town  as 
regularly  as  the  policeman,  who  will  have  their  appointed 
beats,  and  each  of  whom  will  be  entrusted  with  the  task 
of  collecting  the  waste  of  the  houses  in  their  circuit. 
In  small  towns  and  villages  this  is  already  done,  and 
it  will  be  noticed  that  most  of  the  suggestions  which  I 
have  put  forth  in  this  book  are  based  upon  the  central 
principle,  which  is  that  of  restoring  to  the  over-grown, 
and,  therefore,  uninformed  masses  of  population  in  our 
towns,  the  same  intelligence  and  co-operation  as  to  the 
mutual  wants  of  each  and  all,  that  prevails  in  your  small 
town  or  village.  The  latter  is  the  manageable  unit, 
because  its  dimensions  and  its  needs  have  not  outgrown 
the  range  of  the  individual  intelligence  and  ability  of 
those  who  dwell  therein.  Our  troubles  in  large  towns 
arise  chiefly  from  the  fact  that  the  massing  of  popula- 
tion has  caused  the  physical  bulk  of  Society  to  outgrow 
its  intelligence.  It  is  as  if  a  human  being  had  suddenly 
developed  fresh  limbs  which  were  not  connected  by  any 
nervous  system  with  the  gray  matter  of  his  brain.  Such 
a  thing  is  impossible  in  the  human  being,  but,  unfortu- 
nately, it  is  only  too  possible  in  human  society.  In  the 
human  body  no  member  can  suffer  without  an  instan- 
taneous telegram  being  dispatched,  as  it  were,  to  the  seat 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  147 

of  intelligence;  the  foot  or  the  finger  cries  out  when  it 
suffers,  and  the  whole  body  suffers  with  it.  So,  in  a 
small  community,  everyone,  rich  and  poor,  is  more  or 
less  cognizant  of  the  sufferings  of  the  community.  In 
a  large  town  where  people  have  ceased  to  be  neighborly, 
there  is  only  a  congested  mass  of  population  settled  down 
on  a  certain  small  area  without  any  human  ties  connect- 
ing them  together.  Here  it  is  perfectly  possible,  and 
it  frequently  happens,  that  men  actually  die  of  starvation 
within  a  few  doors  of  those  who,  if  they  had  been 
informed  of  the  actual  condition  of  the  sufferer  that  lay 
within  earshot  of  their  comfortable  drawing-rooms,  would 
have  been  eager  to  minister  the  needed  relief.  What  we 
have  to  do,  therefore,  is  to  grow  a  new  nervous  system 
for  the  body  politic,  to  create  a  swift,  almost  automatic, 
means  of  communication  between  the  community  as  a 
whole  and  the  meanest  of  its  members,  so  as  to  restore 
to  the  city  what  the  village  possesses. 

I  do  not  say  that  the  plan  which  I  have  suggested  is 
the  only  plan,  or  the  best  plan  conceivable.  All  that  I 
claim  for  it  is  that  it  is  the  only  plan  which  I  can  con- 
ceive as  practicable  at  the  present  moment,  and  that,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  it  holds  the  field  alone,  for  no  one,  so 
far  as  I  have  been  able  to  discover,  even  proposes  to 
reconstitute  the  connection  between  what  I  have  called 
the  gray  matter  of  the  brain  of  the  municipal  community 
and  all  the  individual  units  which  make  up  the  body 
politic. 

Carrying  out  the  same  idea,  I  come  to  the  problem 
of  the  waste  commodities  of  the  towns,  and  we  will  take 
this  as  an  earnest  of  the  working  out  of  the  general 
principle.  In  the  villages  there  is  very  little  waste. 
The  sewage  is  applied  directly  to  the  land,  and  so  be 
comes  a  source  of  wealth  instead  of  being  entptied  into 
great    subterranean    reservoirs,    to     generate    poisonous 


148  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

gases,  which,  by  a  most  ingenious  arrangement,  are  then 
poured  forth  into  the  very  heart  of  our  dwellings,  as  is 
the  case  in  the  great  cities.  Neither  is  there  any  waste 
of  broken  victuals.  The  villager  has  his  pig  or  his 
poultry,  or  if  he  has  not  a  pig  his  neighbor  has  one,  and 
the  collection  of  broken  victuals  is  conducted  as  regu- 
larly as  the  delivery  of  the  post.  And  as  it  is  with 
broken  victuals,  so  it  is  with  rags,  and  bones,  and  old 
iron,  and  all  the  debris  of  a  household.  When  I  was 
a  boy  one  of  the  most  familiar  figures  in  the  streets 
of  a  country  town  was  the  man,  who,  with  his  small 
hand-barrow  or  donkey-cart,  made  a  regular  patrol 
through  all  the  streets  once  a  week,  collecting  rags, 
bones,  and  all  other  waste  materials,  buying  the  same 
from  the  juveniles  who  collected  them,  in  specie, 
not  of  Her  Majesty's  current  coin,  but  of  common  sweet- 
meats, known  as  "claggum"  or  "taffy."  When  the 
tooting  of  his  familiar  horn  was  heard  the  children 
would  bring  out  their  stores,  and  trade  as  best  ^hey 
could  with  the  itinerant  merchant,  with  the  result 
that  the  closets  which  in  our  towns  to-day  have  become 
the  receptacles  of  all  kinds  of  disused  lumber  were 
kept  then  swept  and  garnished.  Now,  what  I  want  to 
know  is,  why  can  we  not  establish  on  a  scale  commensu- 
rate with  our  extended  needs  the  rag-and-bone  industry 
in  all  our  great  towns?  That  there  is  sufficient  to  pay 
for  the  collection  is,  I  think,  indisputable.  If  it  paid 
in  a  small  North-country  town  or  Midland  village,  why 
would  it  not  pay  much  better  in  an  area  where  the  houses 
stand  more  closely  together,  and  where  luxurious  liv- 
ing and  thriftless  habits  have  so  increased  that  there 
must  be  proportionately  far  more  breakage,  more  waste, 
and  therefore  more  collectible  matter,  than  in  the  rural 
districts?  In  looking  over  the  waste  of  London  it  has 
occurred  to  me  that  in  \\\&  debris  of  our  households  there 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  149 

is  sufficient  food,  if  utilized,  to  feed  many  of  the  starv- 
ing poor,  and  to  employ  some  thousands  of  them  in  its 
collection,  and,  in  addition,  largely  to  assist  the  general 
scheme.  What  I  propose  would  be  to  go  to  work  on 
something  like  the  following  plan: 

London  would  be  divided  into  districts,  beginning 
with  that  portion  of  it  most  likely  to  furnish  the  larg- 
est supplies  of  what  would  be  worth  collection.  Two 
men,  or  a  man  and  a  boy,  would  be  told  off  for  this  pur- 
pose to  this  district. 

Households  would  be  requested  to  allow  a  receptacle 
to  be  placed  in  some  convenient  spot  in  which  the  serv- 
ants could  deposit  the  waste  food,  and  a  sack  of  som.e 
description  would  also  be  supplied  for  the  paper,  rags, 
etc. 

The  whole  would  be  collected,  say  once  or  twice  a 
week,  or  more  frequently,  according  to  the  season  and 
circumstances,  and  transferred  to  depots  as  central  as 
possible  to  the  different  districts. 

At  present  much  of  this  waste  is  thrown  into  the  dust- 
bin, there  to  fester  and  breed  disease.  Then  there  are  old 
newspapers,  ragged  books,  old  bottles,  tins,  canisters,  etc. 
We  all  know  what  a  number  of  articles  there  are  which 
are  not  quite  bad  enough  to  be  thrown  into  the  dust-heap, 
and  yet  are  no  good  to  us.  We  put  them  on  one  side,  hop- 
ing that  something  may  turn  up,  and  as  that  something 
very  seldom  does  turn  up,  there  they  remain.  Crippled 
musical  instruments,  for  instance,  old  toys,  broken-down 
perambulators,  old  clothes,  all  the  things  in  short,  for 
which  we  have  no  more  need,  and  for  which  there  is  no 
market  within  our  reach,  but  which  it  we  feel  would  be 
a  sin  and  a  shame  to  destroy. 

When  I  get  my  Househ©ld  Salvage  Brigade  properly 
organized,  beginning,  as  I  said,  in  some  district  where 
we   should  be    likely    to    meet    with  most  material,  our 


150  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

» 

uniformed  collectors  would  call  every  other  day  or  twice 
a  week  with  their  hand  barrow  or  pony  cart.  As  these 
men  would  be  under  strict  discipline,  and  numbered, 
the  householder  would  have  a  security  against  any  abuse 
of  which  such  regular  callers  might  otherwise  be  the 
occasion. 

At  present  the  rag  and  bone  man  who  drives  the  more 
or  less  precarious  livelihood  by  intermittent  visits,  is 
looked  upon  askance  by  prudent  housewives.  They  fear 
in  many  cases  he  takes  the  refuse  in  order  to  have  the 
opportunity  of  finding  somethingwhich  may  be  worth  while 
"picking  up, "  and  should  he  be  impudent  or  negligent 
there  is  no  authority  to  whom  they  can  appeal.  Under 
our  Brigade,  each  district  would  have  its  numbered  officer 
who  would  himself  be  subordinate  to  a  superior  officer,  to 
whom  any  complaints  could  be  made,  and  whose  duty  it 
would  be  to  see  that  the  officers  under  his  command  punct 
ually  performed  their  rounds  and  discharged  their  duties 
without  offense. 

Here  let  me  disclaim  any  intention  of  interfering 
with  the  Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor,  or  any  other  persons, 
who  collect  the  broken  victuals  of  hotels  and  other  es- 
tablishments for  charitable  purposes.  My  object  is  not 
to  poach  on  my  neighbor's  domains,  nor  shall  I  ever  be 
a  party  to  any  contentious  quarrels  for  the  control  of 
this  or  that  source  of  supply.  All  that  is  already  util- 
ized I  regard  as  outside  my  sphere.  The  unoccupied 
wilderness  of  waste  is  a  wide  enough  area  for  the  oper- 
ations of  our  Brigade.  But  it  will  be  found  in  practice 
that  there  are  no  competing  agencies.  While  the  broken 
victuals  of  certain  large  hotels  are  regularly  collected, 
the  things  before  enumerated,  and  a  number  of  others, 
are  untouched  because  not  sought  after. 

Of  the  immense  extent  to  which  Food  is  wasted  few 
people   have  any   notion   except   those   who    have  made 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  151 

actual  experiments.  Some  years  ago,  Lady  Wolseley 
established  a  system  of  collection  from  house  to  house 
in  Mayfair,  in  order  to  secure  materials  for  a  charitable 
kitchen  which,  in  concert  with  Baroness  Burdett-Coutts, 
she  had  started  at  Westminster.  The  amount  of  the 
food  which  she  gathered  was  enormous.  Sometimes  legs 
of  mutton  from  which  only  one  or  two  slices  had  been 
cut  were  thrown  into  the  tub,  where  they  waited  for 
the  arrival  of  the  cart  on  its  rounds.  It  is  by  no  means 
an  excessive  estimate  to  assume  that  the  waste  of  the 
kitchens  of  the  West  End  would  provide  a  sufficient 
sustenance  for  all  the  Out-of-Works  who  will  be  em- 
ployed in  our  labor  sheds  at  the  industrial  centres.  All 
that  it  needs  is  collection,  prompt,  systematic,  by  dis- 
ciplined men  who  can  be  relied  upon  to  discharge  their 
task  with  punctuality  and  civility,  and  whose  failure  in 
this  duty  can  be  directly  brought  to  the  attention  of  the 
controlling  authority. 

Of  the  utilization  of  much  of  the  food  which  is  to  be 
so  collected  I  shall  speak  hereafter,  when  I  come  to 
describe  the  second  great  division  of  my  Scheme,  namely 
the  Farm  Colony.  Much  of  the  food  collected  by  the 
Household  Salvage  Brigade  would  not  be  available  for 
human  consumption.  In  this  the  greatest  care  would  be 
exercised,  and  the  remainder  would  be  dispatched,  if  pos- 
sible, by  barges  down  the  river  to  the  Farm  Colony,  where 
we  shall  meet  it  hereafter. 

But  food  is  only  one  of  the  materials -which  we  should 
handle.  At  our  Whitechapel  Factory  there  is  one  shoe- 
maker whom  we  picked  off  the  streets  destitute  and  mis- 
erable. He  is  now  saved,  and  happy,  and  cobbles  away 
at  the  shoe  leather  of  his  mates.  That  shoemaker,  I 
foresee,  is  but  the  pioneer  of  a  whole  army  of  shoe- 
makers constantly  at  work  in  repairing  the  cast-off  boots 
and  shoes  of  London.     Already  in  some  provincial  towns 


152  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

a  great  business  is  done  by  the  conversion  of  old  shoes 
into  new.  They  call  the  men  so  employed  translators. 
Boots  and  shoes,  as  every  wearer  of  them  knows,  do  not 
go  to  pieces  all  at  once  or  in  all  parts  at  once.  The 
sole  often  wears  out  utterly,  while  the  upper  leather 
is  quite  good,  or  the  upper  leather  bursts  while  the  sole 
remains  practically  in  a  salvable  condition;  but  your 
individual  pair  of  shoes  and  boots  are  no  good  to  you 
when  any  section  of  them  is  hopelessly  gone  to  the  bad. 
But  give  our  trained  artist  in  leather  and  his  army  of 
assistants  a  couple  of  thousand  pairs  of  boots  and  shoes, 
and  it  will  go  ill  with  him  if  out  of  the  couple  of  thou- 
sand pairs  of  wrecks  he  cannot  construct  five  hundred 
pairs,  which,  if  not  quite  good,  will  be  immeasurably 
better  than  the  apologies  for  boots  which  cover  the  feet 
of  many  a  poor  tramp,  to  say  nothing  of  the  thousands 
of  poor  children  who  are  at  the  present  moment  attending 
our  public  schools.  In  some  towns  they  have  already 
established  a  Boot  and  Shoe  Fund  in  order  to  provide 
the  little  ones  who  come  to  school  with  shoes  warranted 
not  to  let  in  water  between  the  school  house  and  home. 
When  you  remember  the  43,000  children  who  are  reported 
by  the  School  Board  to- attend  the  schools  of  London 
alone  unfed  and  starving,  do  you  not  think  there  are  many 
thousands  to  whom  we  could  easily  dispose,  with  ad- 
vantage, the  resurrected  shoes  of  our  Boot  Factory? 

This,  however,  is  only  one  branch  of  industry.  Take 
old  umbrellas.  We  all  know  the  itinerant  umbrella 
mender,  whose  appearance  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
farmhouse  leads  the  good  wife  to  look  after  her  poultry 
and  to  see  well  to  it  that  the  watch-dog  is  on  the 
premises.  But  that  gentleman  is  almost  the  only  agency 
by  which  old  umbrellas  can  be  rescued  from  the  dust 
heap.  Side  by  side  with  our  Boot  Factory  we  shall  have 
a  great  umbrella  works.     The  ironwork  of  one    umbrella 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  153 

will  be  fitted  to  the  stick  of  another,  and  even  from 
those  that  are  too  hopelessly  gone  for  any  further  use  as 
umbrellas  we  shall  find  plenty  of  use  for  their  steels 
and  whalebone. 

So  I  might  go  on.  Bottles  are  a  fertile  source  of 
minor  domestic  worry.  When  you  buy  a  bottle  you  have 
to  pay  a  penny  for  it;  but  when  you  have  emptied  it 
you  cannot  get  a  penny  back;  no,  nor  even  a  farthing. 
You  throw  your  empty  bottle  either  into  the  dust  heap, 
or  let  it  lie  about.  But  if  we  could  collect  all  the  waste 
bottles  of  London  every  day,  it  would  go  hardly  with 
us  if  we  could  not  turn  a  very  pretty  penny  by  v/ashing 
them,  sorting  them,  and  sending  them  out  on  a  new 
lease  of  life.  The  washing  of  old  bottles  alone  will 
keep  a  considerable  number  of  people  going. 

I  can  imagine  the  objection  which  will  be  raised  by 
some  short-sighted  people,  that  by  giving  the  old,  second- 
hand material  a  new  lease  of  life  it  will  be  said  that  we 
shall  diminish  the  demand  for  new  material,  and  so  cur- 
ail  work  and  wages  at  one  end  while  we  are  endeavoring 
to  piece  on  something  at  the  other.  This  objection  re- 
minds me  of  a  remark  of  a  North  Country  pilot  who 
when  speaking  of  the  dullness  in  the  shipbuilding  in- 
dustry, said  that  nothing  would  do  any  good  but  a  series 
of  heavy  storms,  which  would  send  a  goodly  number  of 
ocean-going  steamers  to  the  bottom,  to  replace  which, 
this  political  economist  thought,  the  yards  would  once 
more  be  filled  with  orders.  This,  however,  is  not  the 
way  in  which  work  is  supplied.  Economy  is  a  great 
auxiliary  to  trade,  inasmuch  as  the  money  saved  is  ex- 
pended on  other  products  of  industry. 

There  is  one  material  that  is  continually  increasing  in 
quantity,  which  is  the  despair  of  the  life  of  the  house- 
holder and  of  the  Local  Sanitary  Authority.  I  refer  to 
the   tins    in   which   provisions    are  supplied.      Nowadays 


1.54  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

everything  comes  to  us  in  tins.  We  have  coffee  tins, 
meat  tins,  salmon  tins,  and  tins  ad  nausea77i.  Tin  is  be- 
coming more  and  more  the  universal  envelope  of  the  ra- 
tions of  man.  But  v^hen  you  have  extracted  the  contents 
of  the  tin  what  can  you  do  with  it?  Huge  mountains  of 
empty  tins  lie  about  every  dustyard,  for  as  yet  no  man 
has  discovered  a  means  of  utilizing  them  when  in  great 
masses.  Their  market  price  is  about  four  or  five  shil- 
lings a  ton,  but  they  are  so  light  that  it  would  take  half 
a  dozen  trucks  to  hold  a  ton.  They  formerly  burnt  them 
for  the  sake  of  the  solder,  but  now,  by  a  new  process, 
they  are  jointed  without  solder.  The  problem  of  the 
utilization  of  the  tins  is  one  to  which  we  would  have  to 
address  ourselves,  and  I  am  by  no  means  desponding  as 
to  the  result. 

I  see  in  the  old  tins  of  London  at  least  one  means  of 

a 

establishing  an  industry  which  is  at  present  almost 
monopolized  by  our  neighbors.  Most  of  the  toys  which 
are  sold  in  France  on  New  Year's  Day  are  almost  entirely 
made  of  sardine  cans  collected  in  the  French  capital. 
The  toy  market  of  England  is  at  present  far  from  being 
over-stocked,  for  there  are  multitudes  of  children  who  have 
no  toys  worth  speaking  of  with  which  to  am^use  them- 
selves. In  these  empty  tins  I  see  the  means  of  employ- 
ing a  large  number  of  people  in  turning  out  cheap  toys 
which  will  add  a  new  joy  to  the  households  of  the  poor 
— the  poor  to  whom  every  farthing  is  important,  not  the 
rich,  the  rich  can  always  get  toys — but  the  children  of 
the  poor,  who  live  in  one  room  and  have  nothing  to  look 
out  upon  but  the  slum  or  the  street.  These  desolate 
little  things  need  our  toys,  and  if  supplied  cheap 
enough  they  will  take  them  in  sufficient  quantities  to 
make  it  worth  while  to  manufacture  them. 

A  whole  book  might  be  written  concerning  the  utiliza- 
tion   of    the   waste   of    London.     But  I  am  not  going  to 


AND  THE  WAY  OU  f  155 

Write  one.  I  hope  before  long  to  do  something  much 
better  than  write  a  book,  namely,  to  establish  an  organ- 
ization to  utilize  the  waste,  and  then  if  I  describe  what 
is  being  done  it  will  be  much  better  than  by  now  ex- 
plaining what  I  propose  to  do.  But  there  is  one  more 
waste  material  to  which  it  is  necessary  to  allude.  I 
refer  to  old  newspapers  and  magazines  and  books 
Newspapers  accumulate  in  our  houses  until  we  some- 
times burn  them  in  sheer  disgust.  Magazines  and  old 
books  lumber  our  shelves  until  we  hardly  know  where 
to  turn  to  put  a  new  volume.  My  Brigade  will  relieve 
the  householder  from  these  difiiculties,  and  thereby  be- 
come a  great  distributing  agency  of  cheap  literature. 
After  the  magazine  has  done  its  duty  in  a  middle-class 
household  it  can  be  passed  on  to  the  reading-rooms, 
workhouses,  and  hospitals.  Every  publication  issued 
from  the  Press  that  is  o!  the  slightest  use  to  men  and 
women  will,  by  our  Scheme,  acquire  a  double  share  of 
usefulness.  It  will  be  read  first  by  its  owner,  and  then 
by  many  people  who  would  never  otherwise  see  it. 

We  shall  establish  an  immense  second-hand  book, 
shop.  All  the  best  books  that  come  into  our  hands  will 
be  exposed  for  sale,  not  merely  at  our  central  depots, 
but  on  the  barrows  of  our  peripatetic  colporteurs,  who 
will  go  from  street  to  street  with  literature  which,  I 
trust,  will  be  somewhat  superior  to  the  ordinary  pabu- 
lum supplied  to  the  poor.  After  we  have  sold  all  we 
could,  and  given  away  all  that  is  needed  to  public  insti- 
tutions, the  remainder  will  be  carried  down  to  our  great 
Paper  Mill,  of  which  we  shall  speak  later,  in  connection 
with  our  Farm  Colony. 

The  Household  Salvage  Brigade  will  constitute  an 
agency  capable  of  being  utilized  to  any  extent  for  the 
distribution  of  parcels,  newspapers,  etc.  When  once 
you  have  your  reliable  man  who  will  call  at  every  house 


156  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

with  the  regularity  of  a  postman,  and  go  his  beat  with 
the  punctuality  of  a  policeman,  you  can  do  great  things 
with  him.  I  do  not  need  to  elaborate  this  point.  It 
will  be  a  universal  Corps  of  Commissionaires,  created 
for  the  service  of  the  public  and  in  the  interests  of  the 
poor,  which  will  bring  us  into  direct  relations  with  every 
family  in  London,  and  will  therefore  constitute  an  un- 
equaled  medium  for  the  distribution  of  advertisements 
and  the  collection  of  information. 

It  does  not  require  a  very  fertile  imagination  to  see 
that  when  such  a  house-to-house  visitation  is  regularly 
established,  it  will  develop  in  all  directions;  and  work- 
ing, as  it  would,  in  connection  with  our  Anti-sweating 
Shops  and  Industrial  Colony,  would  probably  soon  be- 
come the  medium  for  negotiating  sundry  household  re- 
pairs, from  a  broken  window  to  a  damaged  stocking.  If 
a  porter  were  wanted  to  move  furniture,  or  a  woman 
wanted  to  do  charing,  or  someone  to  clean  windows  or 
any  other  odd  job,  the  ubiquitous  Servant  of  All  who 
called  for  the  waste,  either  verbally  or  by  postcard, 
would  receive  the  order,  and  whoever  was  wanted  would 
appear  at  the  time  desired  without  any  further  trouble 
on  the  part  of  the  householder. 

One  word  as  to  the  cost.  There  are  five  hundred  thou- 
sand houses  in  the  Metropolitan  Police  district.  To  sup- 
ply every  house  with  a  tub  and  a  sack  for  the  reception  of 
waste  would  involve  an  initial  expenditure  which  could 
not  possibly  be  less  than  one  shilling  a  house.  So  huge 
is  London,  and  so  enormous  the  numbers  with  which  we 
shall  have  to  deal,  that  this  simple  preliminary  would 
require  a  cost  of  ^25,000.  Of  course  I  do  not  propose 
to  begin  on  anything  like  such  a  vast  scale.  That  sum, 
which  is  only  one  of  the  many  expenditures  involved, 
will  serve  to  illustrate  the  extent  of  the  operations  which 
the  Household  Salvage    Brigade    will    necessitate.     The 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  157 

enterprise  is  therefore  beyond  the  reach  of  any  but  a 
great  and  powerful  organization,  commanding  capital 
and  able  to  secure  loyalty,  discipline,  and  willing  service. 


CHAPTER  III 

TO    THE    country! — THE    FARM    COLONY 

I  leave  on  one  side  for  a  moment  various  features  of 
jthe  operations  which  will  be  indispensable  but  subsidiary 
ito  the  City  Colony,  such  as  the  Rescue  Homes  for  Lost 
Women,  the  Retreats  for  Inebriates,  the  Homes  for  Dis- 
;charged  Prisoners,  the  Enquiry  Office  for  the  Discovery 
of  Lost  Friends  and  Relatives,  and  the  Advice  Bureau, 
which  will,  in  time,  become  an  institution  that  will  be 
invaluable  as  a  poor  man's  Tribune.  All  these  and 
other  suggestions  for  saving  the  lost  and  helping  the 
poor,  although  they  form  essential  elements  of  the  City 
Colony,  will  be  better  dealt  with  after  I  have  explained 
the  relation  which  the  Farm  Colony  will  occupy  to  the 
City  Colony,  and  set  forth  the  way  in  which  the  former 
|will  act  as  a  feeder  to  the  Colony  Over  Sea. 
I  I  have  already  described  how  I  propose  to  deal,  in 
jthe  first  case,  with  the  mass  of  surplus  labor  which 
Iwill  infallibly  accumulate  on  our  hands  as  soon  as  the 
(Shelters  are  more  extensively  established  and  in  good 
[working  order.  But  I  fully  recognize  that  when  all  has 
been  done  that  can  be  done  in  the  direction  of  disposing 
of  the  unhired  men  and  women  of  the  town,  there  will 
still  remain  many  whom  you  can  neither  employ  in  the 
Household  Salvage  Brigade,  nor  for  whom  employers,  be 
they  registered  never  so  carefully,  can  be  found.  What, 
then,  must  be  done  with  them?  The  answer  to  that 
^  _158 


AND  THE  WAV  OUT  159 

question  seems  to  me  obvious.      They  must  go  upon  the 
land! 

The  land  is  the  source  of  all  food;  only  by  the  applica- 
tion of  labor  can  the  land  be  made  fully  productive. 
There  is  any  amount  of  waste  land  in  the  v^^orld,  not  far 
away  in  distant  Continents,  next  door  to  the  North  Pole, 
but  here  at  our  very  doors.  Have  you  ever  calculated, 
for  instance,  the  square  miles  of  unused  land  which 
fringe  the  sides  of  all  our  .railroads?  No  doubt  some 
embankments  are  of  material  that  would  baffle  the  culti- 
vating skill  of  a  Chinese  or  the  careful  husbandry  of  a 
Swiss  mountaineer;  but  these  are  exceptions.  When 
other  people  talk  of  reclaiming  Salisbury  Plain,  or  of 
cultivating  the  bare  moorlands  of  the  bleak  North,  I 
think  of  the  hundreds  of  square  miles  of  land  that  lie 
in  long  ribbons  £)n  the  side  of  each  of  our  railways,  upon 
which,  without  any  cost  for  cartage,  innumerable  tons  of 
City  manure  could  be  shot  down,  and  the  c^ops  of  which 
could  be  carried  at  once  to  the  nearest  mxarket  without 
any  but  the  initial  cost  of  heaping  into  convenient  trucks. 
These  railway  embankments  constitute  a  vast  estate, 
capable  of  growing  fruit  enough  to  supply  all  the  jam 
that  Crosse  and  Blackwell  ever  boiled.  In  almost  every 
county  in  England  are  vacant  farms,  and,  in  still  greater 
numbers,  farms  but  a  quarter  cultivated,  which  only 
need  the  application  of  an  industrious  population  work- 
ing with  due  incentive  to  produce  twice,  thrice,  and 
four  times  as  much  as  they  yield  to-day. 

I  am  aware  that  there  are  few  subjects  upon  which 
there  are  such  fierce  controversies  as  the  possibilities  of 
making  a  livelihood  out  of  small  holdings,  but  Irish 
cottiers  do  it,  and  in  regions  infinitely  worse  adapted 
for  the  purpose  than  our  Essex  corn  lands,  and  possess- 
ing none  of  the  advantages  which  civilization  and  cd- 
operation  place    at    the    command    of    an    intelligently 


160  IN   DARKEsr   KNGLAND 

directed  body  of  husbandmen.  Talk  about  the  land  not 
being  worth  cultivating!  Go  to  the  Swiss  Valleys  and 
examine  for  yourself  the  miserable  patches  of  land,  hewed 
®ut  as  it  were  from  the  heart  of  the  granite  mountains, 
where  the  cottager  grows  his  crops  and  makes  a  liveli- 
hood. No  doubt  he  has  his  Alp,  where  his  cows  pasture 
in  summer-time,  and  his  other  occupations  which  enable 
him  to  supplement  the  scanty  yield  of  his  farm  garden 
among  the  crags;  but  if  it  pays  the  Swiss  mountaineer 
in  the  midst  of  the  eternal  snows,  far  removed  from  any 
market,  to  cultivate  such  miserable  soil  in  the  brief 
summer  of  the  high  Alps,  it  is  impossible  to  believe 
that  Englishmen,  working  on  English  soil,  close  to  our 
markets  and  enjoying  all  the  advantages  of  co  operation, 
cannot  earn  their  daily  bread  by  their  daily  toil.  The 
soil  of  England  is  not  unkindly,  and  although  much  is  said 
against  our  climate,  it  is,  as  Mr.  Russell  Lowell  observes, 
after  a  lengthened  experience  of  many  countries  and 
many  climes,  "the  best  climate  in  the  whole  world  for 
the  laboring  man."  There  are  more  days  in  the  English 
year  on  which  a  man  can  work  out  of  doors  with  a  spade, 
with  comparative  comfort,  than  in  any  other  country 
under  heaven.  I  do  not  say  that  men  will  make  a  for- 
tune out  of  the  land,  nor  do  I  pretend  that  we  can,  under 
the  gray  English  skies,  hope  ever  to  vie  with  the  pro- 
ductiveness of  the  Jersey  farms;  but  I  am  prepared  to 
maintain  against  all  comers  that  it  is  possible  for  an 
industrious  man  to  grow  his  rations,  provided  he  is  given 
a  spade  with  which  to  dig  and  land  to  dig  in.  Espe- 
cially will  this  be  the  case  with  intelligent  direction  and 
the  advantages  of  co-operation. 

Is  it  not  a  reasonable  supposition?  It  always  seems  to 
me  a  strange  thing  that  men  should  insist  that  you  must 
first  transport  your  laborer  thousands  of  miles  to  a  des- 
olate, bleak  country  in  order  to  set  him  to  work  to    ex- 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  161 

tract  a  livelihood  from  the  soil,  when  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  acres  lie  only  half  tilled  at  home,  or  not  tilled 
at  all.  Is  it  reasonable  to  think  that  you  can  only  be- 
gin to  make  a  living  out  of  land  when  it  lies  several 
thousand  miles  from  the  nearest  market,  and  thousands 
of  miles  from  the  place  where  the  laborer  has  to  buy 
his  tools  and  procure  all  the  necessaries  of  life  which 
are  not  grown  on  the  spot?  If  a  man  can  make  squatting 
pay  on  the  prairies  or  in  Australia,  where  every  quarter 
of  grain  which  he  produces  has  to  be  dragged  by  locomo- 
tives across  the  railways  of  the  continent,  and  then  car- 
ried by  steamers  across  the  wide  ocean,  can  he  not 
equally  make  the  operation  at  least  sufficiently  profitable 
to  keep  himself  alive  if  you  plant  him,  with  the  same 
soil,  within  an  hour  by  rail  of  the  greatest  markets  in  the 
world? 

The  answer  to  this  is,  that  you  cannot  give  your  man 
as  much  soil  as  he  has  on  the  prairies  or  in  the  Canadian 
lumber  lands.  This,  no  doubt,  is  true,  but  the  squatter 
who  settles  in  the  Canadian  backwoods  does  not  clear 
his  land  all  at  once.  He  lives  on  a  small  portion  of  it, 
and  goes  on  digging  and  delving  little  by  little,  until, 
after  many  years  of  Herculean  labor,  he  hews  out  for 
himself,  and  his  children  after  him,  a  freehold  estate. 
Freehold  estates,  I  admit,  are  not  to  be  had  for  the 
picking  up  on  English  soil,  but  if  a  man  will  but  work 
in  England  as  they  work  in  Canada  or  in  Australia,  he 
will  find  as  little  difficulty  in  making  a  livelihood  here 
as  there. 

I  may  be  wrong,  but  when  I  travel  abroad  and  see  the 
desperate  struggle  on  the  part  of  peasant  proprietors  and 
the  small  holders  in  mountainous  districts  for  an  addi- 
tional patch  of  soil,  the  idea  of  cultivating  which  would 
make  our  agricultural  laborers  turn  up  their  noses  in 
speechless  contempt,  I  cannot  but  think  that  our  Eng- 
// 


162  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

lish  soil  could  carry  a  far  greater  number  of  souls  to  the 
acre  than  that  which  it  bears  at  present.  Suppose,  for 
instance,  that  Essex  were  suddenly  to  find  itself  unmoored 
from  its  English  anchorage  and  towed  across  the  Chan- 
nel to  Ncrmandy,  or,  not  to  imagine  miracles,  suppose 
that  an  Armada  of  Chinese  were  to  make  a  descent  on 
the  Isle  of  Thanet,  as  did  the  sea-kings,  Hengist  and 
Horsa,  does  anyone  imagine  for  a  moment  that  Kent, 
fertile  and  cultivated  as  it  is,  would  not  be  regarded  as 
a  very  Garden  of  Eden,  out  of  the  odd  corners  of  which 
our  yellow-skinned  invaders  would  contrive  to  extract 
su^cient  to  keep  themselves  in  sturdy  health?  T  only 
suggest  the  possibility  in  order  to  bring  out  clearly  the 
fact  that  the  difficulty  is  not  in  the  soil  nor  in  the  cli- 
mate, but  in  the  lack  of  application  of  sufficient  labor  to 
sufficient  land  in  the  truly  scientific  way. 

"What  is  the  scientific  way?"  I  shall  be  asked  impa- 
tiently. I  am  not  an  agriculturist;  I  do  not  dogmatize. 
I  have  read  much  from  many  pens,  and  have  noted  the 
experiences  of  many  colonies,  and  I  have  learned  the  les- 
son that  it  is  in  the  school  of  practical  labor  that  the 
most  valuable  knowledge  is  to  be  obtained.  Neverthe- 
less, the  bulk  of  my  proposals  are  based  upon  the  experi- 
ence of  many  who  have  devoted  their  lives  to  the  study 
of  the  subject,  and  have  been  endorsed  by  specialists 
whose  experience  gives  them  authority  to  speak  with  un- 
questioning confidence. 

Section  I.— THE  FARM  PROPER 

My  present  idea  is  to  take  an  estate  from  five  hundred 
to  a  thousand  acres  within  reasonable  distance  of  Lon- 
don. It  should  be  of  such  land  as  will  be  suitable  for 
market  gardening,  while  having  some  clay  on  it  for 
brick-making  and  for  crops  requiring  a  heavier  soil.  If 
possible,  it    should    not    only    be  on  a  line   of    railway 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  1G3 

which  is  managed  by  intelligent  and  progressive  direct- 
ors, but  it  should  have  access  to  the  sea  and  to  the 
river.  It  should  be  freehold  land,  and  it  should  lie  at 
some  considerable  distance  from  any  town  or  village. 
The  reason  for  the  latter  desideratum  is  obvious.  We 
must  be  near  London  for  the  sake  of  our  market  and  for 
the  transmission  of  the  commodities  collected  by  our 
Household  Salvage  Brigade,  but  it  must  be  some  little 
distance  from  any  town  or  village  in  order  that  the  Col- 
ony may  be  planted  clear  out  in  the  open  away  from  the 
public  house,  that  upas  tree  of  civilization.  A  sine 
qua  non  of  the  new  Farm  Colony  is  that  no  intoxicating 
liquors  will  be  permitted  within  its  confines  on  any 
pretext  whatever.  The  doctors  will  have  to  prescribe 
some  other  stimulant  than  alcohol  for  residents  in  this 
Colony.  But  it  will  be  little  use  excluding  alcohol 
with  a  strong  hand  and  by  cast-iron  regulations  if  the 
Colonists  have  only  to  take  a  short  walk  in  order  to  find 
themselves  in  the  midst  of  the  "Red  Lions,"  and  the 
"Blue  Dragons,"  and  the  "George  the  Fourths,"  which 
abound  in  every  country  town. 

Having  obtained  the  land  I  should  proceed  to  prepare 
it  for  the  Colonists.  This  is  an  operation  which  is  es- 
sentially the  same  in  any  country.  You  need  water  sup- 
ply, provisions  and  shelter.  All  this  would  be  done  at 
first  in  the  simplest  possible  style.  Our  pioneer  bri- 
gade, carefully  selected  from  the  Out-of-Works  in  the 
City  Colony,  would  be  sent  down  to  la}^  out  the  estate 
and  prepare  it  for  those  who  would  come  after.  And 
here  let  me  say  that  it  is  a  great  delusion  to  imagine 
that  in  the  riffraff  and  waste  of  the  labor  market  there 
are  no  workmen  to  be  had  except  those  that  are  worth- 
less. Worthless  under  the  present  conditions,  exposed 
to  constant  temptations  to  intemperance  no  doubt  they 
are,  but  some  of  the  brightest  men  in  London,  with  some 


1C4  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

of  the  smartest  pairs  of  hands,  and  the  cleverest  brains, 
are  at  the  present  moment  weltering  helplessly  in  the 
sludge  from  which  we  propose  to  rescue  them. 

I  am  not  speaking  without  book  in  this  matter.  Some 
of  my  best  Officers  to-day  have  been  even  such  as  they. 
There  is  an  infinite  potentiality  of  capacity  lying  latent 
in  our  Provincial  Tap-rooms  and  the  City  Gin  Palaces 
if  you  can  but  get  them  soundly  saved,  and  even  short 
of  that,  if  you  can  place  them  in  conditions  where  they 
would  no  longer  be  liable  to  be  sucked  back  into  their 
old  disastrous  habits,  you  may  do  great  things  with 
them. 

I  can  well  imagine  the  incredulous  laughter  which  will 
greet  my  proposal.  "What,"  it  will  be  said,  "do  you 
think  that  you  can  create  agricultural  pioneers  out  of 
the  scum  of  Cockneydom?"  Let  us  look  for  a  moment  at 
the  ingredients  which  make  up  what  you  call  "the  scum 
of  Cockneydom."  After  careful  examination  and  close 
cross-questioning  of  the  Out-of-Works,  whom  we  have 
already  registered  at  our  Labor  Bureau,  we  find  that  at 
least  sixty  per  cent,  are  country  folk,  men,  women,  boys, 
and  girls,  who  have  left  their  homes  in  the  counties  to 
come  up  to  town  in  the  hope  of  bettering  themselves. 
They  are  in  no  sense  of  the  word  Cockneys,  and  they 
represent  not  the  dregs  of  the  country  but  rather  its 
brighter  and  more  adventurous  spirits  who  have  boldly 
tried  to  make  their  way  in  new  and  uncongenial 
spheres  and  have  terribly  come  to  grief.  Of  thirty  cases, 
selected  haphazard,  in  the  various  Shelters  during  the 
week  ending  July  5th,  1890,  twenty-two  were  country- 
born,  sixteen  were  men  who  had  come  up  a  long  time 
ago,  but  did  not  ever  seem  to  have  settled  to  regular 
employ,  and  four  were  old  military  men.  Of  sixty  cases 
examined  into  at  the  Bureau  and  Shelters  during  the 
fortnight  ending  August  2nd,  forty-two  were  country  peo- 


AND  THE  WAV  OUT  135 

pie;  twenty-six  men  who  had  been  in  London  for  various 
periods,  ranging  from  six  months  to  four  years;  nine 
were  lads  under  eighteen,  who  had  run  away  from  home 
and  come  up  to  town;  while  four  were  ex-military. 
Of  eighty-five  cases  of  dossers  who  were  spoken  to  at 
night  when  they  slept  in  the  streets,  sixty-three  were 
country  people.  A  very  small  proportion  of  the  genuine 
homeless  Out-of-Works  are  Londoners  bred  and  born. 

There  is  another  element  in  the  matter,  the  existence 
of  which  will  be  news  to  most  people,  and  that  is  the 
large  proportion  of  ex-military  men  who  are  among  the 
helpless,  hopeless  destitute.  Mr.  Arnold  White,  after 
spending  many  months  in  the  streets  of  London  interro- 
gating more  than  four  thousand  men  whom  he  found  in 
the  course  of  one  bleak  winter  sleeping  out  of  doors  like 
animals  returns  it  as  his  conviction  that  at  least  20  per 
cent,  are  Army  Reserve  men.  Twenty  per  cent!  That 
is  to  say  one  man  in  every  five  with  whom  we  shall  have 
to  deal  has  served  Her  Majesty  the  Queen  under  the 
colors.  This  is  the  resource  to  which  these  poor  fel- 
lows come  after  they  have  given  the  prime  of  their  lives 
to  the  service  of  their  country.  Although  this  may  be 
largely  brought  about  by  their  own  thriftless  and  evil  con- 
duct, it  is  a  scandal  and  disgrace  which  may  well  make 
the  cheek  of  the  patriot  tingle.  Still,  I  see  in  it  a  great 
resource.  A  man  who  has  been  in  the  Queen's  Army  is 
a  man  who  has  learnt  to  obey.  He  is  further  a  man 
who  has  been  taught  in  the  roughest  of  rough  schools  to 
be  handy  and  smart,  to  make  the  best  of  the  roughest 
fare,  and  not  to  consider  himself  a  martyr  if  he  is  sent  on 
a  forlorn  hope.  I  often  say  if  we  could  only  get  Chris- 
tians to  have  one-half  of  the  practical  devotion  and  sense 
of  duty  that  animates  even  the  commonest  Tommy 
Atkins,  what  a  change  would  be  brought  about  in  the 
world!      Look    at    poor    Tommy!      A    country    lad    who 


106  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

gets  himself  into  some  scrape,  runs  away  from  home, 
finds  himself  sinking  lower  and  lower,  with  no  hope  of 
employment,  no  friends  to  advise  him,  and  no  one  to 
give  him  a  helping  hand.  In  sheer  despair  he  takes  the 
Queen's  shilling  and  enters  the  ranks.  He  is  handed 
over  to  an  inexorable  drill  sergeant;  he  is  compelled  to 
room  in  barracks  where  privacy  is  unknown,  to  mix 
with  men,  many  of  them  vicious,  few  of  them  companions 
whom  he  would  of  his  own  choice  select.  He  gets  his 
rations,  and  although  he  is  told  he  will  get  a  shilling  a 
day,  tliere  are  so  many  stoppages  that  he  often  does  not 
finger  a  shilling  a  week.  He  is  drilled  and  worked  and 
ordered  hither  and  thither  as  if  he  were  a  machine,  all 
of  which  he  takes  cheerfully,  without  even  considering 
that  there  is  any  hardship  in  his  lot,  plodding  on  in  a 
dull,  stolid  kind  of  way  for  his  Queen  and  his  country, 
doing  his  best,  also,  poor  chap,  to  be  proud  of  his  red 
uniform,  and  to  cultivate  his  self-respect  by  reflecting 
that  he  is  one  of  the  defenders  of  his  native  land,  one 
of  the  heroes  upon  whose  courage  and  endurance  depends 
the  safety  of  the  British  realm. 

Some  fine  day,  at  the  other  end  of  the  world,  some 
prancing  pro-consul  finds  it  necessary  to  smash  one  of 
^he  man-slaying  machines  that  loom  ominous  on  his 
borders,  or  some  savage  potentate  makes  an  incursion 
into  territory  of  a  British  colony,  or  some  fierce  outburst 
of  Mohammedan  fanaticism  raises  up  a  Mahdi  in  mid- 
Africa.  In  a  moment  Tommy  Atkins  is  marched  off  to 
the  troop  ship,  and  swept  across  the  seas,  heart-sick 
and  sea-sick,  and  miserable  exceedingly,  to  fight  the 
Queen's  enemies  in  foreign  parts.  When  he  arrives  there 
he  is  bundled  ashore,  brigaded  with  other  troops, 
marched  to  the  front  through  the  blistering  glare  of  a 
tropical  sun,  over  poisonous  marshes  in  which  his  com- 
rades   sicken    and    die,    until  at  last    he  is  drawn    up  in 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  IC  7 

square  to  receive  the  charge  of  tens  of  thousands  of  fero- 
cious savages.  Far  away  from  all  who  love  him  or  care 
for  him,  foot-sore  and  travel  weary,  having  eaten  per- 
haps but  a  piece  of  dry  bread  in  the  last  twenty-four 
hours,  he  must  stand  up  and  kill  or  be  killed.  Often 
he  falls  beneath  the  thrust  of  an  assegai  or  the  slashing 
broad-sword  of  the  charging  enemy.  Then,  after  the 
fight  is  over,  his  comrades  turn  up  the  sod  where  he  lies, 
bundle  his  poor  bones  into  the  shallow  pit,  and  leave 
him  without  even  across  to  mark  his  solitary  grave.  Per- 
haps he  is  fortunate  and  escapes.  Yet  Tommy  goes  un- 
complainingly through  all  these  hardships  and  privations, 
does  not  think  himself  a  martyr,  takes  no  fine  airs  about 
what  he  has  done  and  suffered,  and  shrinks  uncomplain- 
ingly into  our  Shelters  and  our  Factories,  only  asking  as 
a  benediction  from  Heaven  that  someone  will  give  him 
an  honest  job  of  work  to  do.  That  is  the  fate  of  Tommy 
Atkins.  If  in  our  churches  and  chapels  as  much  as  one 
single  individual  were  to  bear  and  dare,  for  the  benefit  of 
his  kind  and  the  salvation  of  men,  what  a  hundred 
thousand  Tommy  Atkinses  bear  uncomplainingly,  taking 
it  all  as  if  it  were  in  the  day's  work,  for  their  rations 
and  their  shilling  a  da^  (with  stoppages),  think  you  we 
should  not  transform  the  whole  face  of  the  world?  Yea, 
verily.  We  find  but  very  little  of  such  devotion;  no, 
not  in  Israel. 

I  look  forward  to  making  great  use  of  these  Army  Re- 
serve men.  There  are  engineers  amongst  them ;  there 
are  artillerymen  and  infantry;  there  are  cavalrymen,  who 
know  what  a  horse  needs  to  keep  him  in  good  health, 
and  men  of  the  transport  department,  for  whom  I  shall 
find  work  enough  to  do  in  the  transference  of  the  multi- 
tudinous waste  of  London  from  our  own  Depots  to  the 
outlying  Farm.  This,  however,  is  a  digression,  by  the 
way. 


16S  IN  DARKEST   ENGLAND 

After  having  got  the  Farm  into  some  kind  of  ship- 
shape, we  should  select  from  the  City  Colonies  all 
those  who  were  likely  to  be  successful  as  our  first  set- 
tlers. These  would  consist  of  men  who  had  been  work- 
ing so  many  weeks  or  days  in  the  Labor  Factory,  or  had 
been  under  observation  for  a  reasonable  time  at  the 
Shelters  or  in  the  Slums,  and  who  had  given  evidence  of 
their  willingness  to  work,  their  amenity  to  discipline, 
and  their  ambition  to  improve  themselves.  On  arrival 
at  the  Farm  they  would  be  installed  in  a  barracks,  and 
at  once  told  off  to  work.  In  winter  time  there  would  be 
draining,  and  road-making,  and  fencing,  and  many  other 
forms  of  industry  which  could  go  on  when  the  days  are 
short  and  the  nights  are  long.  In  Spring,  Summertime 
and  Autumn,  some  would  be  employed  on  the  land, 
chiefly  in  spade  husbandry,  upon  what  is  called  the  sys- 
tem of  "intensive"  agriculture,  such  as  prevails  in  the 
suburbs  of  Paris,  where  the  market  gardeners  literally 
create  the  soil,  and  which  yields  much  greater  results 
than  when  you  merely  scratch  the  surface  with  a  plough. 

Our  Farm,  I  hope,  would  be  as  productive  as  a  great 
market  garden.  There  would  be  a  Superintendent  on  the 
Colony,  who  would  be  a  practical  gardener,  familiar 
with  the  best  methods  of  small  agriculture,  and  every- 
thing that  science  and  experience  shows  to  be  needful 
for  the  profitable  treatment  of  the  land.  Then  there 
would  be  various  other  forms  of  industry  continually  in 
progress,  so  that  employment  could  be  furnished,  adapted 
to  the  capacity  and  skill  of  every  Colonist.  Where 
farm  buildings  are  wanted,  the  Colonists  must  erect  them 
themselves.  If  they  want  glass  houses,  they  must  put 
them  up.  Everything  on  the  Estate  must  be  the  produc- 
tion of  the  Colonists.  Take,  for  instance,  the  building  of 
cottages.  After  the  first  detachment  has  settled  down 
into  its  quarters  and  brought  the    fields    somewhat    into 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  169 

cultivation,  there  will  arise  a  demand  for  houses.  These 
houses  must  be  built,  and  the  bricks  made  by  the  Colo- 
nists themselves.  All  the  carpentering  and  the  joinery 
will  be  done  on  the  premises,  and  by  this  means  a  sus- 
tained demand  for  work  will  be  created.  Then  there 
would  be  furniture,  clothing,  and  a  great  many  other 
wants,  the  supply  of  the  whole  of  which  would  create  la- 
bor which  the  Colonists  must  perform. 

For  a  long  time  to  come  the  Salvation  Army  will  be 
able  to  consume  all  the  vegetables  and  crops  which  the 
Colonies  will  produce.  That  is  one  advantage  of  being 
connected  with  so  great  and  growing  a  concern;  the  right 
hand  will  help  the  left,  and  we  shall  be  able  to  do  many 
things  which  those  who  devote  themselves  exclusively  to 
colonization  would  find  it  impossible  to  accomplish.  We 
have  seen  the  large  quantities  of  provisions  which  are  re- 
quired to  supply  the  Food  Depots  in  their  present  dimen- 
sions, and  with  the  coming  extensions  the  consumption 
will  be  enormously  augmented. 

On  this  Farm  I  propose  to  carry  on  every  description  of 
"little  agriculture." 

I  have  not  yet  referred  to  the  female  side  of  our 
operations,  but  have  reserved  them  for  another  chapter. 
It  is  necessary,  however,  to  bring  them  in  here  in  order 
to  explain  that  employment  will  be  created  for  women 
as  well  as  men.  Fruit  farming  affords  a  great  opening 
for  female  labor,  and  it  will  indeed  be  a  change  as  from 
Tophet  to  the  Garden  of  Eden  when  the  poor  lost  girls 
on  the  streets  of  London  exchange  the  pavements  of  Pic- 
cadilly for  the  strawberry  beds  of  Essex  or  Kent. 

Not  only  will  vegetables  and  fruit  of  every  description 
be  raised,  but  I  think  that  a  great  deal  might  be  done 
in  the  smaller  adjuncts  of  the  Farm. 

It  is  quite  certain  that  amongst  the  mass  of  people  with 
whom  we  have  to  deal    there  will  be  a  residual  remnant 


170  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

of  persons  to  some  extent  mentally  infirm  or  physically 
incapacitated  from  engaging  in  the  harder  toils.  For  these 
people  it  is  necessary  to  find  work,  and  I  think  there 
would  be  a  good  field  for  their  benumbed  energies  in  look- 
ing after  rabbits,  feeding  poultry,  minding  bees,  and,  in 
short,  doing  all  those  little  odd  jobs  about  a  place  which 
must  be  attended  to,  but  which  will  not  repay  the  labor 
of  able-bodied  men. 

One  advantage  of  the  cosmopolitan  nature  of  the  Army 
is  that  we  have  Officers  in  almost  every  country  in  the 
world.  When  this  Scheme  is  well  on  the  way  every  Sal- 
vation Officer  in  every  land  will  have  it  imposed  upon 
him  as  one  of  the  duties  of  his  calling,  to  keep  his  eyes 
open  for  every  useful  notion  and  every  conceivable  con- 
trivance for  increasing  the  yield  of  the  soil  and  utilizing 
the  employment  of  waste  labor.  By  this  means  I  hope 
that  there  will  not  be  an  idea  in  the  world  which  will 
not  be  made  available  for  our  Scheme.  If  an  Officer  in 
Sweden  can  give  us  practical  hints  as  to  how  they  man- 
age food  kitchens  for  the  people,  or  an  Officer  in  the  South 
of  France  can  explain  how  the  peasants  are  able  to  rear 
eggs  and  poultry  not  only  for  their  own  use,  but  so  as  to 
be  able  to  export  them  by  the  million  to  England;  if  a 
Sergeant  in  Belgium  understands  how  it  is  that  the  rab^ 
bit  farmers  there  can  feed  and  fatten  and  supply  our 
market  with  millions  of  rabbits  we  shall  have  him  over, 
tap  his  brains,  and  set  him  to  work  to  benefit  our  people. 

By  the  establishment  of  this  Farm  Colony  we  should 
create  a  great  school  of  technical  agricultural  education. 
It  would  be  a  Working  Men's  Agricultural  University, 
training  people  for  the  life  which  they  would  have  to  lead 
in  the  new  countries  they  will  go  forth  to  colonize  and 
possess. 

Every  man  who  goes  to  our  Farm  Colony  does  so,  not 
to  acquire  his  fortune,    but  to  obtain  a  knowledge   of  an 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  171 

occupation  and  that  mastery  of  his  tools  which  will  en- 
able him  to  play  his  part  in  the  battle  of  life.  He  will 
be  provided  with  a  cheap  uniform,  which  we  shall  find 
no  difficulty  in  rigging  up  from  the  old  clothes  of  Lon- 
don, and  it  will  go  hardly  with  us,  and  we  shall  have 
worse  luck  than  the  ordinary  market  gardener,  if  we  do 
not  succeed  in  making  sufficient  profit  to  pay  all  the  ex- 
penses of  the  concern,  and  leave  something  over  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  hopeiussly  incompetent,  and  those 
who,  to  put  it  roughl}^,   are  not  worth  their  keep. 

Every  person  in  the  Farm  Colony  will  be  taught  the 
elementary  lesson  of  obedience,  and  will  be  instructed 
in  the  needful  arts  of  husbandry,  or  some  other  method 
of  earning  his  bread.  The  Agricultural  Section  will 
learn  the  lesson  of  the  seasons  and  of  the  best  kind  of 
seeds  and  plants.  Those  belonging  to  this  Section  will 
learn  how  to  hedge  and  ditch,  how  to  make  roads  and 
build  bridges,  and  generally  to  subdue  the  earth  and 
make  it  yield  to  him  the  riches  which  it  never  withholds 
from  the  industrious  and  skillful  workman.  But  the 
Farm  Colony,  any  more  than  the  City  Colony,  although  an 
abiding  institution,  will  not  provide  permanently  forthose 
with  whom  we  have  to  deal.  It  is  a  Training  School  for 
Emigrants,  a  place  where  those  indispensably  practical 
lessons  are  given  which  will  enable  the  Colonists  to 
know  their  way  about  and  to  feel  themselves  at  home 
wherever  there  is  land  to  till,  stock  to  rear,  and  harvests 
to  reap.  We  shall  rely  greatly  for  the  peace  and  pros- 
perity of  the  Colony  upon  the  sense  of  brotherhood  which 
will  be  universal  in  it  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest. 
While  there  will  be  no  systematic  wage-paying  there 
will  be  some  sort  of  rewards  and  remuneration  for  honest 
industry,  which  will  be  stored  up,  for  his  benefit,  as 
afterwards  explained.  They  will  in  the  main  work  each 
for  all,  and,  therefore,  the  needs  of  all  will  be  supplied, 


172  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

and  any  overplus  will  go  to  make  the  bridge  over  which 
any  poor  fellow  may  escape  from  the  horrible  pit  and 
the  miry  clay  from  which  they  themselves  have  been  res- 
cued. 

The  dullness  and  deadness  of  country  life,  especially 
in  the  Colonies,  leads  many  men  to  prefer  a  life  of  hard- 
ship and  privation  in  a  City  slum.  But  in  our  Colony 
they  would  be  near  to  each  other,  and  would  enjoy  the 
advantages  of  country  life  and  the  association  and  com- 
panionship of  life  in  town. 

Section  II.— THE  INDUSTRIAL  VILLAGE 

In  describing  the  operations  of  the  Household  Salvage 
Brigade  I  have  referred  to  the  enormous  quantities  of 
good,  sound  food  which  would  be  collected  from  door  to 
door  every  day  of  the  year.  Much  of  this  food  would  be 
suitable  for  human  consumption,  its  waste  being  next 
door  to  sinful.  Imagine,  for  instance,  the  quantities  of 
soup  which  might  be  made  from  boiling  the  good,  fresh, 
meaty  bones  of  the  great  City!  Think  of  the  dainty  dishes 
which  a  French  cook  would  be  able  to  serve  up  from 
the  scraps  and  odds  and  ends  of  a  single  West  End 
kitchen!  Good  cookery  is  not  an  extravagance,  but  an 
economy,  and  many  a  tasty  dish  is  made  by  our 
Continental  friends  out  of  materials  which  would  be  dis- 
carded indignantly  by  the  poorest  tramp  in  Whitechapel. 

But  after  all  that  is  done  there  will  remain  a  mass  of  food 
which  cannot  be  eaten  by  man,  but  can  be  converted  into 
food  for  him  by  the  simple  process  of  passing  it  through 
another  digestive  apparatus.  The  old  bread  of  London, 
the  soiled,  stale  crusts,  can  be  used  in  foddering  the 
horses  which  are  employed  in  collecting  the  waste.  It 
will  help  to  feed  the  rabbits,  whose  hutches  will  be 
close  by^ every  cottage  on  the  estate,  and  the  hens  of  the 


AND  THE  WAY  QUT  173 

Colony  will  flourish  on  the  crumbs  which  tall  from  the 
table  of  Dives.  But  after  the  horses  and  the  rabbits  and 
poultry  have  been  served,  there  will  remain  a  residuum 
of  eatable  matter,  which  can  only  be  profitably  disposed 
of  to  the  voracious  and  necessary  pig.  I  foresee  the  rise 
of  a  piggery  in  connection  with  the  new  Social  Scheme, 
which  will  dwarf  into  insignificance  all  that  exist  in 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  We  have  the  advantage  of 
the  experience  of  the  whole  world  as  to  the  choice  of 
breeds,  the  construction  of  sties,  and  the  rearing  of  stock. 
We  shall  have  the  major  part  of  our  food  practically  for 
the  cost  of  collection,  and  be  able  to  adopt  all  the  latest 
methods  of  Chicago  for  the  killing,  curing,  and  disposing 
of  our  pork,  ham,  and  bacon.  There  are  few  animals  more 
useful  than  the  pig.  He  will  eat  anything,  live  any- 
where, and  almost  every  particle  of  him,  from  the  tip  of 
his  nose  to  the  end  of  his  tail,  is  capable  of  being  con- 
verted into  a  salable  commodity.  Your  pig  also  is  a  great 
producer  of  manure,  and  agriculture  is,  after  all,  largely 
a  matter  of  manure.  Treat  the  land  well,  and  it  will 
treat  you  well.  With  our  piggery  in  connection  with 
our  Farm  Colony,  there  would  be  no  lack  of  manure. 

With  the  piggery  there  would  grow  up  a  great  bacon 
factory  for  curing,  and  that  again  would  make  more  work. 
Then  as  for  sausages,  they  would  be  produced  literally 
by  the  mile,  and  all  made  of  the  best  meat,  instead 
of  being  manufactured  out  of  the  very  objectionable  in- 
gredients too  often  stowed  away  in  that  poor  man's 
favorite  ration. 

Food,  however,  is  only  one  of  the  materials  which  will 
be  collected  by  the  Household  Salvage  Brigade.  The 
barges  which  float  down  the  river  with  the  tide,  laden 
to  the  brim  with  the  cast-off  waste  of  half  a  million 
homes,  will  bring  down  an  enormous  quantity  of  mate- 
rial which  cannot  be  eaten  even  by  pigs.     There  will  be, 


174  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

for  instance,  the  old  bones.  At  present  it  pays  specu- 
lators to  go  to  the  prairies  of  America  and  gather  up 
the  bleached  bones  of  the  dead  buffaloes,  in  order  to 
make  manure.  It  pays  manufacturers  to  bring  bones 
from  the  end  of  the  earth  in  order  to  grind  them  up  for 
use  on  our  fields.  But  the  waste  bones  of  London ;  who 
collects  them?  I  see,  as  in  a  vision,  barge  loads  upon 
barge  loads  of  bones  floating  down  the  Thames  to  the 
great  Bone  Factory.  Some  of  the  best  will  yield  mate- 
rial for  knife -handles  and  buttons,  and  the  numberless 
articles  which  will  afford  ample  opportunity  in  the  long 
winter  evenings  for  the  acquisition  of  skill  on  the  part 
of  our  Colonist  carvers,  while  the  rest  will  go  straight 
to  the  Manure  Mill.  There  will  be  a  constant  demand 
for  manure  on  the  part  of  our  ever-increasing  nests  of 
new  Colonies  and  our  Co-operative  Farm,  every  man  of 
which  will  be  educated  in  the  great  doctrine  that  there 
is  no  good  agriculture  without  liberal  manuring.  And 
here  will  be  an  unfailing  source  of  supply. 

Among  the  material  which  comes  down  will  be  an 
immense  quantity  of  greasy  matter,  bits  of  fat,  suet  and 
lard,  tallow,  strong  butter,  and  all  the  rancid  fat  of  a 
great  city.  For  all  that  we  shall  have  to  find  use.  The 
best  of  it  will  make  wagon  grease;  the  rest,  after  due 
boiling  and  straining,  will  form  the  nucleus  of  the  raw 
material  which  will  make  our  Social  Soap  a  household 
word  throughout  the  kingdom.  After  the  Manure  Works, 
the  Soap  Factory  will  be  the  natural  adjunct  of  our 
operations. 

The  fourth  great  output  of  the  daily  waste  of  London 
will  be  waste  paper  and  rags,  which,  after  being  chem- 
ically treated,  and  duly  manipulated  by  machinery,  will 
be  re-issued  to  the  world  in  the  shape  of  paper.  The 
Salvation  Army  consumes  no  less  than  thirty  tons  of 
paper  every  week.     Here,  therefore,  would  be    one   cus- 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  175 

tomer  for  as  much  paper  as  the  new  mill  would  be  able 
to  turn  out  at  the  onset;  paper  on  which  we  could  print 
the  glad  tidings  of  great  joy,  and  tell  the  poor  of  all 
nations  the  news  of  salvation  for  earth  and  Heaven, 
full,  present,  and  free  to  all  the  children   of  men. 

Then  comes  the  tin.  It  will  go  hard  with  us  if  we 
cannot  find  some  way  of  utilizing  these  tins,  whether 
we  make  them  into  flower-pots  with  a  coat  of  enamel,  or 
convert  them  into  ornaments,  or  cut  them  up  for  toys  or 
some  other  purpose.  My  officers  have  been  instructed  to 
make  an  exhaustive  report  on  the  way  the  refuse  collect- 
ors of  Paris  deal  with  the  sardine  tins.  The  industry  of 
making  tin  toys  will  be  one  which  can  be  practiced  better 
in  the  Farm  Colony  than  in  the  City.  If  necessary,  we 
shall  bring  an  accomplished  workman  from  France,  who 
will  teach  our  people  the  way  of    dealing    with    the  tin. 

In  connection  with  all  this,  it  is  obvious  there  would 
be  a  constant  demand  for  packing-cases,  for  twine,  rope, 
and  for  boxes  of  all  kinds;  for  carts  and  cars;  and,  in 
short,  we  should  before  long  have  a  complete  community 
practicing  almost  all  the  trades  that  are  to  be  found  in 
London,  except  the  keeping  of  grog  shops,  the  whole 
being  worked  upon  co-operative  principles,  but  co-opera- 
tion not  for  the  benefit  of  the  individual  co-operator,  but 
for  the  benefit  of  the  sunken  mass  that  lies  behind  it. 

RULES  AND  REGULATIONS  FOR  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  COLONISTS 

A  document  containing  the  Orders  and  Regulations 
for  the  Government  of  a  Colony  must  be  approved  and 
signed  by  every  Colonist  before  admission.  Amongst 
other  things  there  will  be  the  following: 

1.  All  Officers  must  be  treated  respectfully  and  im- 
plicitly obeyed. 

2.  The  use  of  intoxicants  strictly  prohibited,  none 
being  allowed  within  its  borders.     Any  Colonist    guilty 


176  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

of  violating  this  order  to  be  expelled,  and    that    on    the 
first  offense. 

3.  Expulsion  for  drunkenness,  dishonesty,  or  falsehood 
will  follow  the  third  offense. 

4.  Profane  language  strictly  forbidden. 

5.  No  cruelty  to  be  practiced  on  man,  woman,  child, 
or  animal. 

6.  Serious  offenders  against  the  virtue  of  women  or  of 
children,  of  either  sex,  to  incur  immediate  expulsion. 

7.  After  a  certain  period  of  probation,  and  a  considera- 
ble amount  of  patience,  all  who  will  not  work  to  be  ex- 
pelled. 

8.  The  decision  of  the  Governor  of  the  Colony, 
whether  in  the  City,  or  tlie  Farm,  or  Over  the  Sea,  to 
be  binding  in  all  cases. 

9.  With  respect  to  penalties,  the  following  rules  will 
be  acted  upon:  The  chief  reliance  for  the  maintenance 
of  order,  as  has  been  observed  before,  will  be  placed 
upon  the  spirit  of  love  which  will  prevail  throughout 
the  community.  But  as  it  cannot  be  expected  to  be 
universally  successful,  certain  penalties  will  have  to  be 
provided: 

(a)  First  offenses,  except    in   flagrant    cases,  will  be 

recorded. 
(d)  The  second  offense  will  be  published. 
(<r)  The  third  offense  will  incur  expulsion  or   being 
handed  over  to  the  authorities. 
Other    regulations    will    be  necessary  as    the    Scheme 
develops. 

There  will  be  no  attempt  to  enforce  upon  the  Colo- 
nists the  rules  and  regulations  to  which  Salvation  Sol- 
diers are  subjected.  Those  who  are  soundly  saved  and 
who  of  their  own  free  will  desire  to  become  Salvationists 
will,  of  course,  be  subjected  to  the  rules  of  the  Service. 
But  Colonists  who  are  willing  to  work  and  obey  the 
orders  of  the  Commanding  Officer  will  only  be  subject 
to  the  foregoing  and  similar  regulations;  in  all  other 
things  they  will  be  left  free. 

For  instance,  there  will  be  no  objection  to  field  recre- 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  177 

ations  or  any  outdoor  exercises  which  conduce  to  the 
maintenance  of  health  and  spirits.  A  reading-room  and 
a  library  will  be  provided,  together  with  a  hall,  in 
which  they  can  amuse  themselves  in  the  long  winter 
nights  and  in  unfavorable  weather;  but  gambling  and 
anything  of  an  immoral  tendency  will  be  repressed  like 
stealing.  These  things  are  not  for  the  Salvation  Army 
Soldiers,  who  have  other  work  in  the  world,  but  for  those 
who  are  not  in  the  Army  these  recreations  will  be  per- 
missible. 

There  will  probably  be  an  Annual  Exhibition  of  fruit 
and  flowers,  at  which  all  the  Colonists  who  have  a  plot  of 
garden  of  their  own  will  take  part.  They  will  exhibit 
their  fruit  and  vegetables  as  well  as  their  rabbits,  their 
poultry,  and  all  the  other  live  stock  of  the  farm. 

Every  effort  will  be  made  to  establish  village  indus- 
tries, and  I  am  not  without  hope  but  that  we  may  be  able 
to  restore  some  of  the  domestic  occupations  which  steam 
has  compelled  us  to  confine  to  the  great  factories.  The 
more  the  Colony  can  be  made  self-supporting  the 
better.  And  although  the  hand  loom  can  never  com- 
pete with  Manchester  mills,  still  an  occupation  which 
kept  the  hands  of  the  good  wife  busy  in  the  long  winter 
nights,  is  not  to  be  despised  as  an  element  in  the  econom- 
ics of  the  Settlement.  While  Manchester  and  Leeds 
.nay  be  able  to  manufacture  common  goods  much  more 
cheaply  than  they  can  be  spun  at  home,  even  these 
emporiums,  with  all  their  grand  improvements  in  ma- 
chinery, would  be  sorely  pressed  to-day  to  compete  with 
the  hand  loom  in  many  superior  classes  of  work.  For 
instance,  we  all  know  the  hand-sewn  boot  still  holds  its 
own  against  the  most  perfect  article  that  machinery  can 
turn  out. 

There  would  be,  in  the  centre  of  the  Colony,  a  Public 
Elementary  School,  at  which  the  children  would  receive 
12 


178  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

training,  and  side  by  side  with  that  an  Agricultural  In- 
dustrial School,  as  elsewhere  described.  The  religious 
w^elfare  of  the  Colony  would  be  looked  after  by  the  Salva- 
tion Army,  but  there  will  be  no  compulsion  to  take  part 
in  its  services.  The  Sabbath  will  be  strictly  observed; 
DO  unnecessary  work  will  be  done  in  the  Colony  on  that 
day,  but  beyond  interdicted  labor,  the  Colonists  will  be 
allowed  to  spend  Sunday  as  they  please.  It  will  be  the 
fault  of  the  Salvation  Army  if  they  do  not  find  our  Sun- 
day Services  sufficiently  attractive  to  command  their 
attendance. 

Section  III.— AGRICULTURAL  VILLAGES 

This  brings  me  to  the  next  feature  of  the  Scheme, 
the  creation  of  agricultural  settlements  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  Farm,  around  the  original  Estate.  I  hope  to 
obtain  land  forthepurposeof  allotments,  w^hich  can  be  taken 
up  to  the  extent  of  so  many  acres  by  the  more  competent 
Colonists  who  wish  to  remain  at  home  instead  of  going 
abroad.  There  will  be  allotments  from  three  to  five 
acres,  with  a  cottage,  a  cow,  and  the  necessary  tools  and 
seed  for  making  the  allotment  self-supporting.  A  weekly 
charge  will  be  imposed  for  the  repayment  of  the  cost 
of  the  fixing  and  stock.  The  tenant  will,  of  course,  be 
entitled  to  his  tenant-right,  but  adequate  precautions 
will  be  taken  against  underletting  and  other  forms  by 
which  sweating  makes  its  way  into  agricultural  com- 
munities. On  entering  into  possession,  the  tenant  will 
become  responsible  for  his  own  and  his  family's  main- 
tenance. I  shall  stand  no  longer  in  the  relation  of  father 
of  the  household  to  him,  as  I  do  to  the  other  members 
of  the  Colony;  his  obligations  will  cease  to  me,  except 
in  the  payment  of  his  rent. 

The  creation  of  a  large  number  of  Allotment  Farms 
would  make  the  establishment  of  a    creamery    necessary. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  179 

where  the  milk  could  be  brought  in  every  day  and  con- 
verted into  butter  by  the  most  modern  methods  with  the 
least  possible  delay.  Dairying,  which  has  in  some  places 
on  the  continent  almost  developed  to  a  fine  art,  is  in  a 
very  backward  condition  in  this  country.  But  by  co-opera- 
tion among  the  cottiers  and  an  intelligent  Headquarter 
staff,  much  could  be  done  which  at  present  appears  im- 
possible. 

The  tenant  will  be  allowed  permanent  tenancy  on  pay- 
ment of  an  annual  rent  or  land  tax,  subject,  of  course, 
to  such  necessary  regulations  which  may  be  made  for 
the  prevention  of  intemperance  and  immorality  and  the 
preservation  of  the  fundamental  features  of  the  Colon}^ 
In  this  way  our  Farm  Colony  will  throw  off  small  Colo- 
nies all  round  it  until  the  original  site  is  but  the  centre 
of  a  whole  series  of  small  farms,  where  those  whom 
we  have  rescued  and  trained  will  live,  if  not  under  their 
own  vine  and  fig  tree,  at  least  in  the  midst  of  their  own 
little  fruit  farm,  and  surrounded  by  their  small  flocks 
and  herds.  The  cottages  will  be  so  many  detached  resi- 
dences, each  standing  in  its  own  ground,  not  so  far  away 
from  its  neighbors  as  to  deprive  its  occupants  of  the 
benefit  of  human  intercourse. 

Section  IV.— CO-OPERATIVE  FARM 

Side  by  side  with  the  Farm  Colony  proper  I  should 
propose  to  renew  the  experiment  of  Mr.  E.  T.  Craig, 
which  he  found  to  work  so  successfully  at  Ralahine.  When 
any  members  of  the  original  Colony  had  pulled  them- 
selves sufficiently  together  to  desire  to  begin  again  on 
their  own  account,  I  should  group  some  of  them  as  part- 
ners in  a  Co-operative  Farm,  and  see  whether  or  no  the 
success  achieved  in  County  Clare  could  not  be  repeated 
in  Essex  or  in  Kent.  I  cannot  have  more  unpromising 
material  to  deal  with  than  the  wild  Irishmen  on  Colonel 


180  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Vandeleur's  estate,  and  I  would  certainly  take  care  to 
be  safeguarded  against  any  such  mishap  as  destroyed 
the  early  promise  of  Ralahine. 

I  shall  look  upon  this  as  one  of  the  most  important 
experiments  of  the  entire  series,  and  if,  as  I  anticipate, 
it  can  be  worked  successfully — that  is,  if  the  results  of 
Ralahine  can  be  secured  on  a  larger  scale — I  shall  con- 
sider that  the  problem  of  the  employment  of  the  people, 
and  the  use  of  the  land,  and  the  food  supply  for  the 
globe,  is  unquestionably  solved,  were  its  inhabitants 
many  times  greater  in  number  than  they  are. 

Without  saying  more,  some  idea  will  be  obtained  as 
to  what  I  propose  from  the  story  of  Ralahine,  related 
briefly  at  the  close  of  this  volume. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    OVER-SEA    COLONY 

We  now  come  to  the  third  and  final  stage  of  the  re- 
generative process — The  Colony  Over-Sea.  To  mention 
Over-Sea  is  sufficient  with  some  people  to  damn  the 
Scheme.  A  prejudice  against  emigration  has  been  dili 
gently  fostered  in  certain  quarters  by  those  who  have 
openly  admitted  that  they  did  not  wish  to  deplete  the 
rank  of  the  Army  of  Discontent  at  home,  for  the  more 
discontented  people  you  have  here  the  more  trouble  you 
can  give  the  Government,  and  the  more  power  you  have 
to  bring  about  the  general  overturn,  which  is  the  only 
thing  in  which  they  see  any  hope  for  the  future.  Some 
again  object  to  emigration  on  the  ground  that  it  is 
transportation.  I  confess  that  I  have  great  sym- 
pathy with  those  who  object  to  emigration  as  carried 
on  hitherto,  and  if  it  be  a  consolation  to  any  of  my 
critics,  I  may  say  at  once  that  so  far  from  compulso- 
rily  expatriating  any  Englishman,  I  shall  refuse  to  have 
any  part  or  lot  in  emigrating  any  man  or  woman  who 
does  not  voluntarily  wish  to  be  sent  out. 

A  journey  over  sea  is  a  very  different  thing  now  to  what 
it  was  when  a  voyage  to  Australia  consumed  more  than 
six  months,  when  emigrants  were  crowded  by  hundreds 
into  sailing  ships,  and  scenes  of  abominable  sin  and 
brutality  were  the  normal  incidents  of  the  passage.  The 
World  has  grown  much  smaller  since  the  electric  tele- 
graph was  discovered,  and  side  by  side  with  the  shrinkage 

181 


182  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

of  this  planet  under  the  influence  of  steam  and  electricity 
there  has  come  a  sense  of  brotherhood  and  a  conscious- 
ness of  community  of  interest  and  of  nationality  on  the 
part  of  the  English-speaking  people  throughout  the 
world.  To  change  from  Devon  to  Austrafia  is  not  such 
a  change  in  many  respects  as  merely  to  cross  over  from 
Devon  to  Normandy.  In  Australia  the  Emigrant  finds 
himself  among  men  and  women  of  the  same  habits,  the 
same  language,  and  in  fact  the  same  people,  excepting 
that  they  live  under  the  southern  cross  instead  of  in  the 
northern  latitudes.  The  reduction  of  the  postage  be- 
tween England  and  the  Colonies,  a  reduction  which  I 
hope  will  soon  be  followed  by  the  establishment  of  the 
Universal  Penny  Post  between  the  English-speaking 
lands,  will  tend  to  lessen  the  sense  of  distance. 

The  constant  traveling  of  the  Colonists  backward  and 
forward  to  England  makes  it  absurd  to  speak  of  the  Col- 
onies as  if  they  were  a  foreign  land.  They  are  simply 
pieces  of  Britain  distributed  about  the  world,  enabling 
the  Britisher  to  have  access  to  the  richest  parts  of  the 
earth. 

Another  objection  which  will  be  taken  to  this 
Scheme  is  that  Colonists  already  over  sea  will  see  with 
infinite  alarm  the  prospect  of  the  transfer  of  our  waste 
labor  to  their  country.  It  is  easy  to  understand  how 
this  misconception  will  arise,  but  there  is  not  much 
danger  of  opposition  on  this  score.  The  working-men 
who  rule  the  roost  at  Melbourne  object  to  the  introduc- 
tion of  fresh  workmen  into  their  labor-market,  for  the 
same  reason  that  the  new  Dockers'  Union  objects  to  the 
appearance  of  new  hands  at  the  dock  gates — that  is,  for 
fear  the  new-comers  will  enter  into  unfriendly  compe- 
tition with  them.  But  no  Colony,  not  even  the  Protec- 
tionist and  Trade  Unionists  who  govern  Victoria,  could 
rationally  object  to  the  introduction  of  trained  Colonists 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  183 

planted  out  upon  the  land.  They  would  see  that  these 
men  would  become  a  source  of  wealth,  simply  because 
they  would  at  once  become  producers  as  well  as  comsum- 
ers,  and  instead  of  cutting  down  wages  they  would  tend 
directly  to  improve  trade,  and  so  increase  the  employ- 
ment of  the  workmen  now  in  the  Colony.  Emigration 
as  hitherto  conducted  has  been  carried  out  on  directly 
opposite  principles  to  these.  Men  and  v/omen  have  sim- 
ply been  shot  down  into  countries  without  any  regard  to 
their  possession  of  ability  to  earn  a  livelihood,  and  have 
consequently  become  an  incubus  upon  the  energies  of 
the  communit}^  and  a  discredit,  expense,  and  burden. 
The  result  is  that  they  gravitate  to  the  towns  and  com- 
pete with  colonial  workmen,  and  thereby  drive  down 
wages.  We  shall  avoid  that  mistake.  We  need  not 
wonder  that  Australians  and  other  Colonists  should  object 
to  their  countries  being  converted  into  a  sort  of  dump- 
ing-ground on  which  to  deposit  men  and  women  totally 
unsuited  for  the  new  circumstatices  in  which  they  find 
themselves. 

Moreover,  looking  at  it  from  the  aspect  of  the  class 
itself,  would  such  emigration  be  of  any  enduring  value? 
It  is  not  merely  more  favorable  circumstances  that  are 
required  by  these  crowds,  but  those  habits  of  industry, 
truthfulness,  and  self-restraint,  which  will  enable  them 
to  profit  by  better  conditions  if  they  could  only  come  to 
possess  them.  According  to  the  most  reliable  informa- 
tion, there  are  already  sadly  too  many  of  the  same 
classes  we  want  to  help  in  countries  supposed  to  be  the 
paradise  of  the  working-man. 

What  could  be  done  with  a  people  whose  first  inquiry 
on  reaching  a  foreign  land  would  be  for  a  whisky  shop, 
and  who  were  utterly  ignorant  of  those  forms  of  labor 
and  habits  of  industry  absolutely  indispensable  to  the 
earning  of  a  subsistence  amid  the  hardships  of  an  Emi- 


184  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

grant's  life?  Such  would  naturally  shrink  from  the  self- 
denial,  the  new  circumstances  inevitably  called  for,  and 
rather  than  suffer  the  inconveniences  connected  with  a 
settler's  life,  would  probably  sink  down  into  helpless 
despair,  or  settle  in  the  slums  of  the  first  city  they  came 
to. 

These  difficulties,  in  my  estimation,  bar  the  way  to 
the  emigration  on  any  considerable  scale  of  the  "sub- 
merged tenth,"  and  yet  I  am  strongly  of  opinion,  with 
the  majority  of  those  who  have  thought  and  written  on 
political  economy,  that  emigration  is  the  only  remedy 
for  this  mighty  evil.  Now,  the  Over-Sea  Colony  plan, 
I  think,  meets  these  difficulties: 

(i)   In  the    preparation  of  the  Colony  for  the   people. 

(2)  In  the  preparation  of  the  people  for  the  Colony. 

(3)  In  the  arrangements  that  are  rendered  possible  for 
the  transport  of  the  people  when  prepared. 

It  is  proposed  to  secure  a  large  tract  of  land  in  some 
country  suitable  to  our  purpose.  We  have  thought  of 
South  Africa,  to  begin  with.  We  are  in  no  way  pledged 
to  this  part  of  the  world,  or  to  it  alone.  There  is  noth- 
ing to  prevent  our  establishing  similar  settlements  in 
Canada,  Australia,  or  some  other  land.  British  Colum- 
bia has  been  strongly  urged  upon  our  notice.  Indeed, 
it  is  certain  if  this  Scheme  proves  the  success  we  an- 
ticipate, the  first  Colony  will  be  the  forerunner  of  sim- 
ilar communities  elsewhere.  Africa,  however,  presents 
to  us  great  advantages  for  the  moment.  There  is  any 
amount  of  land  suitable  for  our  purpose  which  can  be 
obtained,  we  think,  without  difficulty.  The  climate  is 
healthy.  Labor  is  in  great  demand,  so  that  if  by  any 
means  work  failed  on  the  Colony,  there  would  be  abundant 
opportunities  for  securing  good  wages  from  the  neighbor- 
ing Companies. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  185 

Section  L— THE  COLONY    AND   THE    COLONISTS 

Before  any  decision  is  arrived  at,  however,  informa- 
tion will  be  obtained  as  to  the  position  and  character  of 
the  land;  the  accessibility  of  markets  for  commodi- 
ties; communication  with  Europe,  and  other  necessary 
particulars. 

The  next  business  would  be  to  obtain  on  grant,  or 
otherwise,  a  sufficient  tract  of  suitable  country  for  the 
purpose  of  a  Colony,  on  conditions  that  would  meet  its 
present  and  future  character. 

After  obtaining  a  title  to  the  country,  the  next  busi- 
ness will  be  to  effect  a  settlement  in  it.  This,  I  suppose, 
will  be  accomplished  by  sending  a  competent  body  of 
men  under  skilled  supervision  to  fix  on  a  suitable  location 
for  the  first  settlement,  erecting  such  buildings  as  would 
be  required,  inclosing  and  breaking  up  the  land,  putting 
in  first  crops,  and  so  storing  sufficient  supplies  of  food 
for  the  future. 

Then  a  supply  of  Colonists  would  be  sent  out  to  join 
them,  and  from  time  to  time  other  detachments,  as  the 
Colony  was  prepared  to  receive  them.  Further  locations 
could  then  be  chosen,  and  more  country  broken  up,  and 
before  a  very  long  period  has  passed  the  Colony  would 
be  capable  of  receiving  and  absorbing  a  continuous  stream 
of  emigration  of  considerable  proportions. 

The  next  work  would  be  the  establishment  of  a  strong 
and  efficient  government,  prepared  to  carry  out  and  enforce 
the  same  laws  and  discipline  to  which  the  Colonists  had 
been  accustomed  in  England,  together  with  such  altera- 
tions and  additions  as  the  new  circumstances  would  ren- 
der necessary. 

The  Colonists  would  become  responsible  for  all  that 
concerned  their  own  support;  that  is  to  say,  they  would 
buy  and  sell,  engage  in    trade,  hire  servants,  and  trans- 


186  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

act  all  the  ordinary  business  affairs  of  every-day  life. 
Our  Headquarters  in  England  would  represent  the  Col- 
ony in  this  country  on  their  behalf,  and  with  money  sup- 
plied by  them,  when  once  fairly  established,  would  buy  for 
their  agents  what  they  were  at  the  outset  unable  to  pro- 
duce themselves,  such  as  machinery  and  the  like,  also 
selling  their  produce  to  the  best  advantage. 

All  land,  timber,  minerals,  and  the  like,  would  be 
rented  to  the  Colonists;  all  unearned  increments,  and 
improvements  on  the  land,  would  be  held  on  behalf  of 
the  entire  community,  and  utilized  for  its  general  ad- 
vantages, a  certain  percentage  being  set  apart  for  the 
extension  of  its  borders,  and  the  continued  transmission 
of  Colonists  from  England  in  increasing  numbers. 

Arrangements  would  be  made  for  the  temporary  accom- 
modation of  new  arrivals,  Officers  being  maintained  for  the 
purpose  of  taking  them  in  hand  on  landing  and  directing 
and  controlling  them  generally.  So  far  as  possible,  they 
would  be  introduced  to  work  without  any  waste  of  time, 
situations  being  ready  for  them  to  enter  upon;  and  any 
way,  their  wants  would  be  supplied  till  this  was  the  case. 

There  would  be  friends  who  would  welcome  and  care 
for  them,  not  merely  on  the  principle  of  profit  and  loss, 
but  on  the  ground  of  friendship  and  religion,  many  of 
whom  the  emigrants  would  probably  have  known  before 
in  the  old  country,  together  with  all  the  social  influ- 
ences, restraints,  and  religious  enjoyments  to  which  the 
Colonists  have  been  accustomed. 

After  dealing  with  the  preparation  of  the  Colony  for 
the  Colonist,  we  now  come  to  the  preparation  of  the 

COLONISTS    FOR    THE    OVER-SEA  COLONY 

They  would  be  prepared  by  an  education  in  honesty, 
truth,  and  industry,  without  which  we  could  not  indulge 
in  any  hope  of  their  succeeding.     While  men  and  women 


And  the  way  out  187 

would  be  received  into  the  City  Colony  without  character, 
none  would  be  sent  over  the  sea  who  had  not  been  proved 
Worthy  of  this  trust. 

They  would  be  inspired  with  an  ambition  to  do  well 
for  themselves  and  their  fellow  Colonists. 

They  would  be  instructed  in  all  that  concerned  their 
future  career. 

They  would  be  taught  those  industries  in  which  they 
would  be  most  profitably  employed. 

They  would  be  inured  to  the  hardships  they  would 
have  to  endure. 

They  would  be  accustomed  to  the  economies  they 
would  have  to  practice. 

They  would  be  made  acquainted  with  the  comrades 
with  whom  they  would  have  to  live  and  labor. 

They  would  be  accustomed  to  the  Government,  Orders, 
and  Regulations  which  they  would  have  to  obey. 

They  would  be  educated,  so  far  as  the  opportunity 
served,  in  those  habits  of  patience,  forbearance,  and  af- 
fection which  would  so  largely  tend  to  their  own  wel- 
fare, and  to  the  successful  carrying  out  of  this  part  of 
our  Scheme. 

TRANSPORT    TO    THE    OVER-SEA  COLONY 

We  now  come  to  the  question  of  transport.  This 
certainly  has  an  element  of  difficulty  in  it,  if  the  remedy 
is  to  be  applied  on  a  very  large  scale.  But  this  will 
appear  of  less  importance  if  we  consider: 

That  the  largeness  of  the  number  will  reduce  the  indi- 
vidual cost.  Emigrants  can  be  conveyed  to  such  a  loca- 
tion in  South  Africa  as  we  have  in  view,  by  ones  and 
twos,  at  ^8  per  head,  including  land  journey;  and,  no 
doubt,  were  a  large  number  carried,  this  figure  would  be 
reduced  considerably. 

Many  of  the  Colonists   would  have  friends  who  would 


188  IN   DARKEST  ENGLAND 

assist  them  with  the  cost  of  passage  monefy  and  outfit. 
All  the  unmarried  will  have  earned  something  on  the 
City  and  Farm  Colonies,  which  will  go  towards  meeting 
their  passage  money.  In  the  course  of  time  relatives, 
who  are  comfortably  settled  in  the  Colony,  will  save 
money,  and  assist  their  kindred  in  getting  out  to  them. 
We  have  the  examples  before  our  eyes  in  Australia  and 
the  United  States  of  how  those  countries  have  in  this 
form  absorbed  from  Europe  millions  of  poor  struggling 
people. 

All  Colonists  and  emigrants  generally  will  bind  them- 
selves in  a  legal  instrument  to  repay  all  monies,  ex- 
penses of  passage,  outfit,  or  otherwise,  which  would  in 
turn  be  utilized  in  sending  out  further  contingents. 

On  the  plan  named,  if  prudently  carried  out  and  gen- 
erously assisted,  the  transfer  of  the  entire  surplus  popu- 
lation of  this  country  is  not  only  possible,  but  would, 
we  think,  in  process  of  time,  be  effected  with  enormous 
advantage  to  the  people  themselves,  to  this  country,  and 
the  country  of  their  adoption.  The  history  of  Aus- 
tralia and  the  United  States  evidences  this.  It  is  quite 
true  the  first  settlers  in  the  latter  were  people  superior 
in  every  way  for  such  an  enterprise  to  the  bulk  of  those 
we  propose  to  send  out.  But  it  is  equally  true  that 
large  numbers  of  the  most  ignorant  and  vicious  of  our 
European  populations  have  been  pouring  into  that  coun- 
try ever  since  without  affecting  its  prosperity,  and  this 
Over-Sea  Colony  would  have  the  immense  advantage  at 
the  outset  which  would  come  from  a  government  and 
discipline  carefully  adapted  to  its  peculiar  circum- 
stances, and  rigidly  enforced  in  every  particular. 

I  would  guard  against  misconception  in  relation  to 
this  Over-Sea  Colony  by  pointing  out  that  all  my  pro- 
posals here  are  necessarily  tentative  and  experimental. 
There  is  no  intention  on  my  part  to  stick  to  any  of  these 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  189 

suggestions  if,  on  maturer  consideration  and  consulta- 
tion with  practical  men,  they  can  be  improved  upon. 
Mr.  Arnold  White,  who  has  already  conducted  two 
parties  of  Colonists  to  South  Africa,  is  one  of  the  few 
men  in  this  country  who  has  had  practical  experience  of 
the  actual  difficulties  of  colonization.  I  have,  through 
a  mutual  friend,  had  the  advantage  of  comparing  notes 
with  him  very  fully,  and  I  venture  to  believe  that  there 
is  nothing  in  this  Scheme  that  is  not  in  harmony  with 
the  result  of  his  experience.  In  a  couple  of  months  this 
book  will  be  read  all  over  the  world.  It  will  bring  me 
a  plentiful  crop  of  suggestions,  and,  I  hope,  offers  of 
service  from  many  valuable  and  experienced  Colonists 
in  every  country.  In  the  due  order  of  things  the  Over- 
Sea  Colony  is  the  last  to  be  started.  Long  before  our 
first  batch  of  Colonists  is  ready  to  cross  the  ocean  I 
shall  be  in  a  position  to  correct  and  revise  the  propos- 
als of  this  chapter  by  the  best  wisdom  and  matured 
experience  of  the  practical  men  of  every  Colony  in 
the  Empire. 

Section  II.— UNIVERSAL  EMIGRATION 

We  have  in  our  remarks  on  the  Over-Sea  Colony  re- 
ferred to  the  genera]  concensus  of  opinion  on  the  part  of 
those  who  have  studied  the  Social  Question  as  to  Emi- 
gration being  the  only  remedy  for  the  overcrowded  pop- 
ulation of  this  country,  at  the  same  time  showing  some 
of  the  difficulties  which  lie  in  the  way  of  the  adoption 
of  the  remedy;  the  dislike  of  the  people  to  so  great 
a  change  as  is  involved  in  going  from  one  country  to  an- 
other; the  cost  of  their  transfer,  and  their  general  un- 
fitness for  an  emigrant's  life.  These  difficulties,  as  I 
think  we  have  seen,  are  fully  met  by  the  Over-Sea  Col- 
ony Scheme.     But,  apart  from  those  who,  driven  by  their 


190  IN  DARKEST  ENGLANt) 

abject  poverty,  will  avail  themselves  of  our  Scheme,  there 
are  multitudes  of  people  all  over  the  country  who  would 
be  likely  to  emigrate  could  they  be  assisted  in  so  doing. 
Those  we  propose  to  help  in  the  following  manner: 

1.  By  opening  a  Bureau  in  London,  and  appointing 
Officers  whose  business  it  will  be  to  acquire  every  kind 
of  information  as  to  suitable  countries,  their  adaptation 
to,  and  the  openings  they  present  for,  different  trades  and 
callings,  the  possibility  of  obtaining  land  and  employ- 
ment, the  rates  of  remuneration,  and  the  like.  These 
inquiries  will  include  the  cost  of  passage-money,  rail- 
way fares,  outfit,  together  with  every  kind  of  informa- 
tion required  by  an  emigrant. 

2.  From  this  Bureau  any  one  may  obtain  all  necessary 
information. 

3.  Special  terms  will  be  arranged  with  steamships, 
railway  companies,  and  land  agents,  of  which  emigrants 
using  the  Bureau  will  have  the  advantage. 

4.  Introductions  will  be  supplied,  as  far  as  possible, 
to  agents  and  friends  in  the  localities  to  which  the  em- 
igrant may  be  proceeding. 

5.  Intending  emigrants,  desirous  of  saving  money,  can 
deposit  it  through  this  Bureau  in  the  Arm}^  Bank  for 
that  purpose. 

6.  It  is  expected  that  government  contractors  and 
other  employers  of  labor  requiring  Colonists  of  relia- 
ble character  will  apply  to  this  Bureau  for  such,  offer- 
ing favorable  terms  with  respect  to  passage-money,  em- 
ployment, and  other  advantages. 

7.  No  emigrant  will  be  sent  out  in  response  to  any 
application  from  abroad,  where  the  emigrant's  expenses 
are  defrayed,  without  references  as  to  character,  indus- 
try, and  fitness. 

This  Bureau,  we  think,  will  be  especially  useful  to 
women  and  young  girls.  There  must  be  a  large  number 
of  such  in  this  country  living  in  semi-starvation,  any 
way  with  very  poor  prospects,  who  would  be  very  wel- 
come abroad,  the  expense  of  whose  transfer  governments 
and  masters  and  mistresses  alike  would    be  very  glad  to 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  191 

defray,  or  assist  in  defraying,  if  they  could  only  be  as- 
sured on  both  sides  of  the  beneficial  character  of  the  ar- 
rangements when  made. 

So  widespread  now  are  the  operations  of  the  Army, 
and  so  extensively  will  this  Bureau  multiply  its  agen- 
cies, that  it  will  speedily  be  able  to  make  personal  in- 
quiries on  both  sides,  that  are  in  the  interest  alike  of  the 
emigrant  and  the  intended  employer  in  any  part  of  the 
world. 

Section  III.— THE  SALVATION  SHIP 

When  we  have  selected  a  party  of  emigrants  whom  we 
believe  to  be  sufficiently  prepared  to  settle  on  the  land 
which  has  been  got  ready  for  them  in  the  Colony  over 
Sea,  it  will  be  no  dismal  expatriation  which  will  await 
them.  No  one  who  has  ever  been  on  the  West  Coast  of 
Ireland  when  the  emigrants  were  departing,  and  has 
heard  the  dismal  wails  which  arise  from  those  who  are 
taking  leave  of  each  other  for  the  last  time  on  earth,  can 
fail  to  sympathize  with  the  horror  excited  in  many  minds 
by  the  very  word  emigration.  But  when  our  party  sets 
out,  there  will  be  no  violent  wrenching  of  home  ties.  In 
our  ship  we  shall  export  them  all — father,  mother, 
and  children.  The  individuals  will  be  grouped  in  fam- 
•ilies,  and  the  families  will,  on  the  Farm  Colony,  have 
been  for  some  months  past  more  or  less  near  neighbors, 
meeting  each  other  in  the  field,  in  the  workshops,  and 
in  the  Religious  Services.  It  will  resemble  nothing  so 
much  as  the  unmooring  of  a  little  piece  of  England,  and 
towing  it  across  the  sea  to  find  a  safe  anchorage  in  a 
sunnier  clime.  The  ship  which  takes  out  emigrants  will 
bring  back  the  produce  of  the  farms,  and  constant  trav- 
eling to  and  fro  will  lead  more  than  ever  to  the  feeling 
that  we  and  our  ocean-sundered  brethren  are  members  of 
one  family. 


192  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

No  one  who  has  ever  crossed  the  ocean  can  have  failed 
to  be  impressed  with  the  mischief  that  comes  to  emi- 
grants when  they  are  on  their  way  to  their  destination. 
Many  and  many  a  girl  has  dated  her  downfall  from  the 
temptations  which  beset  her  while  journeying  to  a  land 
where  she  had  hoped  to  find  a  happier  future. 

"Satan  finds  some  mischief  still  for  idle  hands  to  do,' 
and  he  must  have  his  hands  full  on  board  an  emigrant 
ship.  Look  into  the  steerage  at  any  time,  and  you  will 
find  boredom  inexpressible  on  every  face.  The  men 
have  nothing  to  do,  and  an  incident  of  no  more  impor- 
tance than  the  appearance  of  a  sail  upon  the  distant 
horizon  is  an  event  which  makes  the  whole  ship  talk.  I 
do  not  see  why  this  should  be  so.  Of  course,  in  the 
case  of  conveying  passengers  and  freight,  with  the  ut- 
most possible  expedition,  for  short  distances,  it  would 
be  idle  to  expect  that  either  time  or  energies  could  be 
spared  for  the  employment  or  instruction  of  the  passen- 
gers. 

But  the  case  is  different  when,  instead  of  going  to 
America,  the  emigrant  turns  his  face  to  South  Africa 
or  remote  Australia.  Then,  even  with  the  fastest  steam- 
ers, they  must  remain  some  weeks  or  months  upon  the 
high  seas.  The  result  is  that  habits  of  idleness  are  con- 
tracted, bad  acquaintances  are  formed,  and  very  often 
the  moral  and  religious  work  of  a  lifetime  is  undone. 

To  avoid  these  evil  consequences,  I  think  we  should 
be  compelled  to  have  a  ship  of  our  own  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. A  sailing  vessel  might  be  found  the  best  adapted 
for  the  work.  Leaving  out  the  question  of  time,  which 
would  be  of  very  secondary  importance  with  us,  the  con- 
struction of  a  sailing  ship  would  afford  more  space  for  the 
accommodation  of  emigrants  and  for  industrial  occupation, 
and  would  involve  considerably  less  working  expenses, 
besides  costing  very  much  less  at    the  onset,  even    if  we 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  193 

did  not  have  one  given  to  us,  which  I  should  think  would 
be  very  probable. 

All  the  emigrants  would  be  under  the  charge  of  Army 
Officers,  and  instead  of  the  voyage  being  demoralizing, 
it  would  be  made  instructive  and  profitable.  From  leav- 
ing London  to  landing  at  their  destination,  all  Colonists 
would  be  under  watchful  oversight,  could  receive  in- 
struction in  those  particulars  where  they  were  still 
needing  it,  and  be  subjected  to  influences  that  would  be 
beneficial  every  way. 

Then  we  have  seen  that  one  of  the  great  difficulties  in 
the  direction  of  emigration  is  the  cost  of  transport.  The 
expense  of  conveying  a  man  from  England  to  Australia, 
occupying  as  it  does  some  seven  or  eight  weeks,  arises 
not  so  much  from  the  expense  ^connected  with  the  work- 
ing of  the  vessel  which  carries  him,  as  the  amount  of 
provisions  he  consumes  during  the  passage.  Now,  with 
this  plan  I  think  that  the  emigrants  might  be  made  to 
earn  at  least  a  portion  of  this  outlay.  There  is  no  rea- 
son wh}^  a  man  should  not  work  on  board  ship  any  more 
than  on  land.  Of  course,  nothing  much  could  be  done 
when  the  weather  was  very  rough;  but  the  average  num- 
ber of  days  during  which  it  would  be  impossible  for 
passengers  to  employ  themselves  profitably  in  the  time 
spent  between  the  Channel  and  Cape  Town  or  Australia 
would  be  comparatively  few. 

When  the  ship  was  pitching  or  rolling,  work  would  be 
difficult;  but  even  then,  when  the  Colonists  get  their 
sea-legs,  and  are  free  from  the  qualmishness  which  over- 
takes landsmen  when  first  getting  afloat,  I  cannot  see 
why  they  should  not  engage  in  some  form  of  industrial 
work  far  more  profitable  than  yawning  and  lounging  about 
the  deck,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  by  so  doing  they 
would  lighten  the  expense  of  their  transit.  The  sailors, 
firemen,  engineers,  and  everybody  else  connected  with   a 


194  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

vessel  have  to  work,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  our  Col- 
onists should  not  work  also. 

Of  course,  this  method  would  require  special  arrange- 
ments in  the  fitting  up  of  the  vessel,  which,  if  it  were 
our  own,  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  make.  At  first  sight 
it  may  seem  difficult  to  find  employments  on  board  ship 
which  could  be  engaged  in  to  advantage,  and  it  might  not 
be  found  possible  to  fix  up  every  individual  right  away; 
but  I  think  there  would  be  very  few  of  the  class  and 
character  of  people  we  should  take  out,  with  the  prior 
instructions  they  would  have  received,  who  would  not 
have  fitted  themselves  into  some  useful  labor  before  the 
voyage  ended. 

To  begin  with,  there  would  be  a  large  amount  of  the 
ordinary  ship's  work  that  the  Colonists  could  perform, 
such  as  the  preparation  of  food,  serving  it  out,  cleaning 
the  decks  and  fittings  of  the  ship  generally,  together  with 
the  loading  and  unloading  of  cargo.  All  these  operations 
could  be  readily  done  under  the  direction  of  permanent 
hands.  Then,  shoemaking,  knitting,  sewing,  tailoring, 
and  other  kindred  occupations,  could  be  engaged  in.  I 
should  think  sewing-machines  could  be  worked,  and, 
one  way  or  another,  any  amount  of  garments  could  be 
manufactured,  which  would  find  ready  and  profitable  sale 
on  landing,  either  among  the  Colonists  themselves,  or 
with  the  people  round  about. 

Not  only  would  the  ship  thus  be  a  perfect  hive  of  in- 
dustry, it  would  also  be  a  floating  temple.  The  Captain, 
Officers,  and  every  member  of  the  crew  would  be  Salva- 
tionists, and  all,  therefore,  alike  interested  in  the  enter- 
prise. Moreover,  the  probabilities  are  that  we  should  ob- 
tain the  service  of  the  ship's  officers  and  crew  in  the 
most  inexpensive  manner,  in  harmony  with  the  usages 
of  the  Army  everywhere  else,  men  serving  from  love,  and 
not    as  a    mere  business.     The  effect    produced   by    our 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  105 

ship  cruising  slowly  southwards,  testifying  to  the  reality 
of  a  Salvation  for  both  worlds,  calling  at  all  convenient 
ports,  would  constitute  a  new  kind  of  mission  work,  and 
drawing  out  everywhere  a  large  amount  of  warm,  prac- 
tical sympathy.  At  present  the  influence  of  those  who 
go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships  is  not  always  in  favor  of 
raising  the  morals  and  religion  of  the  dwellers  in  the 
places  where  they  come.  Here,  however,  would  be  one 
ship  at  least  whose  appearance  foretold  no  disorder, 
gave  rise  to  no  debauchery,  and  from  whose  capacious 
hull  would  stream  forth  an  Army  of  men,  who,  instead 
of  thronging  the  grog-shops  and  other  haunts  of  licen- 
tious indulgence,  would  occupy  themselves  with  explain- 
ing and  proclaiming  the  religion  of  the  Love  of  God  and 
the  Brotherhood  of  Man. 


CHAPTER  V 

MORE    CRUSADES 

I  have  now  sketched  out  briefly  the  leading  features  of 
the  threefold  Scheme  by  which  I  think  a  way  can  be 
opened  out  of  "Darkest  England,"  by  which  its  forlorn 
denizens  can  escape  into  the  light  and  freedom  of  a  new 
Jife.  But  it  is  not  enough  to  make  a  clear,  broad  road 
out  of  the  heart  of  this  dense  and  matted  jungle  forest; 
its  inhabitants  are  in  many  cases  so  degraded,  so  hope- 
less, so  utterly  desperate,  that  we  shall  have  to  do  some- 
thing more  than  make  roads.  As  we  read  in  the  parable, 
it  is  of  ten  not  enough  that  the  feast  be  prepared  and  the 
guests  be  bidden;  we  must  needs  go  into  the  highways 
and  byways  and  compel  them  to  come  in.  So  it  is  not 
enough  to  provide  our  City  Colony  and  our  Farm  Col- 
ony, and  then  rest  on  our  oars  as  if  we  had  done  our 
work.     That  kind  of  thing  will  not  save  the  Lost. 

It  is  necessary  to  organize  rescue  expeditions  to  free 
the  miserable  wanderers  from  their  captivity,  and  bring 
them  out  into  the  larger  liberty  and  the  fuller  life. 
Talk  about  Stanley  and  Emin  !  There  is  not  one  of  us  but 
has  an  Emin  somewhere  or  other  in  the  heart  of  Darkest 
England,  whom  we  ought  to  sally  forth  to  rescue.  Our 
Emins  have  the  Devil  for  their  Mahdi,  and  when  we  get 
to  them  we  find  that  it  is  their  friends  and  neighbors 
who  hold  them  back,  and  they  are,  oh,  so  irresolute! 
It  needs  each  of  us  to  be  as  indomitable  as  Stanley,  to 
burst  through  all  obstacles,  to  force  our  way  right  to  the 

196 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  197 

centre  of  things,  and  then  to  labor  with  the  poor  pris- 
oner of  vice  and  crime  with  all  our  might.  But  had  not 
the  Expeditionary  Committee  furnished  the  financial 
means  whereby  a  road  was  opened  to  the  sea,  both  Stan- 
ley and  Emin  would  probably  have  beei?  in  the  heart  of 
Darkest  Africa  to  this  day.  This  Scheme  is  our  Stanley 
Expedition.  The  analogy  is  very  close.  I  propose  to 
make  a  road  clear  down  to  the  sea.  But  alas!  our  poor 
Emin!  Even  when  the  road  is  open,  he  halts  and 
lingers  and  doubts.  First  he  will,  and  then  he  won't, 
and  nothing  less  than  the  irresistible  pressure  of  a 
friendly  and  stronger  purpose  will  constrain  him  to  take 
the  road  which  has  been  opened  for  him  at  such  a  cost 
of  blood  and  treasure.  I  now,  therefore,  proceed  to 
sketch  some  of  the  methods  by  which  we  shall  attempt 
to  save  the  lost  and  to  rescue  those  who  are  perishing 
in  the  midst  of  "Darkest   England." 

Section  I.— A    SLUM    CRUSADE— OUR    SLUM 
SISTERS 

When  Professor  Huxley  lived  as  a  medical  officer  in 
the  East  of  London  he  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the 
actual  condition  of  the  life  of  many  of  its  populace 
which  led  him  long  afterw^ards  to  declare  that  the  sur- 
roundings of  the  savages  of  New  Guinea  were  much 
more  conducive  to  the  leading  of  a  decent  human  ex- 
istence than  those  in  which  many  of  the  East-Enders 
live.  Alas,  it  is  not  only  in  London  that  such  lairs 
exist  in  which  the  savages  of  civilization  lurk  and 
breed.  All  the  great  towns  in  both  the  Old  World  and 
the  New  have  their  slums,  in  which  huddle  together,  m 
festering  and  verminous  filth,  men,  women,  and  children. 
They  correspond  to  the  lepers  who  thronged  the  lazar- 
houses  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

As  in  those  days  St.  Francis  of  Assissi  and  the  heroic 


198  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

band  of  saints  who  gathered  under  his  orders  were  wont 
to  go  and  lodge  with  the  lepers  at  the  city  gates,  so  the 
devoted  souls  who  have  enlisted  in  the  Salvation 
Army  take  up  their  quarters  in  the  heart  of  the  worst 
slums.  But  whereas  the  Friars  were  men,  our  Slum 
Brigade  is  composed  of  women.  I  have  a  hundred  of  them 
under  my  orders,  young  women  for  the  most  part,  quar- 
tered all  of  them  in  outposts  in  the  heart  of  the  Devil's 
country.  Most  of  them  are  the  children  of  the  poor, 
who  have  known  hardship  from  their  youth  up.  Some 
are  ladies  born  and  bred,  who  have  not  been  afraid  to 
exchange  the  comfort  of  a  West  End  drawing-room  for 
service  among  the  vilest  of  the  vile,  and  a  residence  in 
small  and  fetid  rooms  whose  walls  were  infested  with 
vermin.  They  live  the  life  of  the  Crucified  for  the  sake 
of  the  men  and  women  for  whom  He  lived  and  died. 
They  form  one  of  the  branches  of  the  activity  of  the  Army 
upon  which  I  dwell  with  deepest  sympathy.  They  are 
at  the  front;  they  are  at  close    quarters  with  the  enemy. 

To  the  dwellers  in  decent  homes  who  occupy  cush- 
ioned pews  in  fashionable  churches,  there  is  something 
strange  and  quaint  in  the  language  they  hear  read  from 
the  Bible,  language  which  habitually  refers  to  the  Devil 
as  an  actual  personality,  and  to  the  struggle  against  sin 
and  uncleanness  as  if  it  were  a  hand-to-hand  death  wres- 
tle with  the  legions  of  Hell.  To  our  little  sisters  who 
dwell  in  an  atmosphere  heavy  with  curses,  among  peo- 
ple sodden  with  drink,  in  quarters  where  sin  and  un- 
cleanness are  universal,  all  these  Biblical  sayings  are 
as  real  as  the  quotations  of  yesterday's  price  of  Consols 
are  to  a  City  man.  They  dwell  in  the  midst  of  Hell, 
and  in  their  daily  warfare  with  a  hundred  devils  it 
seems  incredible  to  them  that  anyone  can  doubt  the  ex- 
istence of  either  one  or  the  other. 

The  Slurn  Sister  is  what  her  name  implies — the  Sister 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  1 99 

of  the  Slum.  They  go  forth  In  Apostolic  fashion,  two- 
and-two,  living  in  a  couple  of  the  same  kind  of  dens  or 
rooms  as  are  occupied  by  the  people  themselves,  differ- 
ing only  in  the  cleanliness  and  order,  and  the  few  articles 
of  furniture  which  they  contain.  Here  they  live  all  the 
year  round,  visiting  the  sick,  looking  after  the  children, 
showing  the  women  how  to  keep  themselves  and  their 
homes  decent,  often  discharging  the  sick  mother's  duties 
themselves;  cultivating  peace,  advocating  temperance, 
counseling  in  temporalities,  and  ceaselessly  preaching 
the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  to  the  Outcast  of  Society. 

I  do  not  like  to  speak  of  their  work — words  fail  me,' 
and  what  I  say  is  so  unworthy  the  theme.  I  prefer  to 
quote  two  descriptions  by  Journalists  who  have  seen 
these  girls  at  work  in  the  field.  The  first  is  taken  from 
a  long  article  which  Julia  Hayes  Percy  contributed  to 
the  New  York  World,  describing  a  visit  paid  by  her  to 
the  slum  quarters  of  the  Salvation  Army  in  Cherry  Hill 
Alleys,  in  the  Whitechapel  of  New  York: 

Twenty-four  hours  in  the  slums — just  a  night  and  a 
day — yet  into  them  were  crowded  such  revelations  of 
misery,  depravity,  and  degradation  as  having  once  been 
gazed  upon,  life  can  never  be  the  same  afterwards. 
Around  and  above  this  blighted  neighborhood  flows  the 
tide  of  active,  prosperous  life.  Men  and  women  travel 
past  in  street  cars,  by  the  Elevated  Railroad,  and  across 
the  bridge,  and  take  no  thought  of  its  wretchedness,  of 
the  criminals  bred  there,  and  of  the  disease  engendered 
by  its  foulness.  It  is  a  fearful  menace  to  the  public 
health,  both  moral  and  physical,  yet  the  multitude  is  as 
heedless  of  danger  as  the  peasant  who  makes  his  house 
and  plants  green  vineyards  and  olives  above  Vesuvian 
fires.  We  are  almost  as  careless  and  quite  as  unknow- 
ing as  we  pass  the  bridge  in  the  late  afternoon. 

Our  immediate  destination  is  the  Salvation  Army  Bar- 
racks in  Washington  Street,  and  we  are  going  finally  to 
the  Salvation  Officers — two  young  women — who  have  been 
dwelling  and  doing  a  noble  mission  work  for  months  in 


200  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

one  of  the  worst  corners  of  New  York's  most  wretched 
quarters.  These  Officers  are  not  living  under  the  segis  of 
the  Army,  however.  The  blue-bordered  flag  is  furled  out 
of  sight,  the  uniforms  and  poke  bonnets  are  laid  away, 
and  there  are  no  drums  or  tambourines.  "The  banner 
over  them  is  love"  of  their  fellow-creatures  among  whom 
they  dwell  upon  an  equal  plane  of  poverty,  wearing  no 
better  clothes  than  the  rest,  eating  coarse  and  scanty  food, 
and  sleeping  upon  hard  cots  or  upon  the  floor.  Their  lives 
are  consecrated  to  God's  service  among  the  poor  of  the 
earth.  One  is  a  woman  in  the  early  prime  of  vigorous 
life,  the  other  a  girl  of  eighteen.  The  elder  of  these  de- 
voted women  is  awaiting  us  at  the  barracks  to  be  our 
guide  to  Slumdom.  She  is  tall,  slender,  and  clad  in  a 
coarse  brown  gown,  mended  with  patches.  A  big  ging- 
ham apron,  artistically  rent  in  several  places,  is  tied 
about  her  waist.  She  wears  an  old  plaid  woolen  shawl 
and  an  ancient  brown  straw  hat.  Her  dress  indicates 
extreme  poverty,  her  face  denotes  perfect  peace.  "This 
is  Em,"  says  Mrs.  Ballington  Booth,  and  after  this  in- 
troduction we  sally  forth. 

More  and  more  wretched  grows  the  district  as  we  pene- 
trate further.  Em  pauses  before  a  dirty,  broken,  smoke- 
dimmed  window,  through  which  in  a  dingy  room  are  seen 
a  party  of  roughs — dark-looking  men — drinking  and 
squabbling  at  a  table.  "They  are  our  neighbors  in  the 
front."  We  enter  the  hall-way  and  proceed  to  the 
rear  room.  It  is  tiny,  but  clean  and  warm.  Afire  burns 
in  the  little  cracked  stove,  which  stands  up  bravely  on 
three  legs,  with  a  brick  eking  out  its  support  at  the 
fourth  corner.  A  tin  lamp  stands  on  the  table;  half  a 
dozen  chairs,  one  of  which  has  arms,  but  must  have  re- 
nounced its  rockers  long  ago,  and  a  packing  box,  upon 
which  we  deposit  our  shawls,  constitute  the  furniture. 
Opening  from  this  is  a  small  dark  bedroom,  with  one 
cot  made  up  and  another  folded  against  the  wall. 
Against  a  door,  which  must  communicate  with  the 
front  room,  in  which  we  saw  the  disagreeable-looking 
men  sitting,  is  a  wooden  table  for  the  hand-basin.  A 
small  trunk  and  a  barrel  of  clothing  complete  the 
inventory. 

Em's  sister  in  the  slum  work  gives  us  a  sweet,  shy  wel- 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  201 

come.  She  is  a  Swedish  girl,  with  the  fair  complexion 
and  crisp,  bright  hair  peculiar  to  the  Scandinavian 
blonde-type.  Her  head  reminds  me  of  a  Grenze  that 
hangs  in  the  Louvre,  with  its  low  knot  of  rippling  hair, 
which  fluffs  out  from  her  brow  and  frames  a  dear  little 
face  with  soft,  childish  outlines,  a  nez  retrousse,  a  tiny 
mouth,  like  a  crushed  pink  rose,  and  wistful  blue  eyes. 
This  girl  has  been  a  Salvationist  for  two  years.  During 
that  time  she  has  learned  to  speak,  read,  and  write  Eng- 
lish, while  she  has  constantly  labored  among  the  poor 
and  wretched. 

The  house  where  we  find  ourselves  was  formerly  no- 
torious as  one  of  the  worst  in  the  Cherry  Hill  district.  It 
has  been  the  scene  of  some  memorable  crimes,  and 
among  them  that  of  the  Chinaman  who  slew  his  Irish 
wife,  after  the  manner  of  "Jack  the  Ripper,"  on  the 
staircase  leading  to  the  second  floor.  A  notable  change 
has  taken  place  in  the  tenement  since  Mattie  and  Em 
have  lived  there,  and  their  gentle  influence  is  making 
itself  felt  in  the  neighboring  houses  as  well.  It  is  nearly 
eight  o'clock  when  we  sally  forth.  Each  of  us  carries 
a  handful  of  printed  slips  bearing  a  text  of  Scripture 
and  a  few  words  of  warning  to  lead  the  better  life. 

"These  furnish  an  excuse  for  entering  places  where 
otherwise  we  could  not  go,"  explains  Em. 

After  arranging  a  rendezvous,  we  separate.  Mattie 
and  Liz  go  off  in  one  direction,  and  Em  and  I  in  an- 
other. From  this  our  progress  seems  like  a  descent  into 
Tartarus.  Em  pauses  before  a  miserable-looking  saloon, 
pushes  open  the  low,  swinging  door,  and  we  go  in.  It 
is  a  low-ceiled  room,  dingy  with  dirt,  dim  with  the  smoke, 
nauseating  with  the  fumes  of  sour  beer  and  vile  liquor. 
A  sloppy  bar  extends  along  one  side,  and  opposite  is  a 
long  table,  with  indescribable  viands  littered  over  it,  in- 
terspersed with  empty  glasses,  battered  hats,  and  cigar 
stumps.  A  motley  crowd  of  men  and  women  jostle  in  the 
narrow  space.  Em  speaks  to  the  soberest  looking  of  the 
lot.  He  listens  to  her  words,  others  crowd  about. 
Marry  accept  the  slips  we  offer,  and  gradually,  as  the 
throng  separates  to  make  way,  we  gain  the  further  end 
of  the  apartment.  Em's  serious,  sweet,  saint-like  face 
I  follow  like  a  star.     All     sense    of  fear  slips  from  me, 


202  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

and  a  great  pity  fills  my  soul  as  I  look  upon  the  various 
types  of  wretchedness. 

As  the  night  wears  on,  the  whole  apartment  seems  to 
wake  up.  Every  house  is  alight;  the  narrow  sidewalks  and 
filthy  streets  are  full  of  people.  Miserable  little  chil- 
dren, with  sin-stamped  faces,  dart  about  like  rats;  little 
ones  who  ought  to  be  in  their  cribs  shift  for  themselves, 
and  sleep  on  cellar-doors  and  areas,  and  under  carts;  a 
few  venders  are  abroad  with  their  wares,  but  the  most  of 
the  traffic  going  on  is  of  a  different  description.  Along 
Water  Street  are  women  conspicuously  dressed  in  gaudy 
colors.  Their  heavily  painted  faces  are  bloated  or 
pinched;  they  shiver  in  the  raw  night  air.  Liz  speaks  to 
one,  who  replies  that  she  would  like  to  talk,  but  dare  not, 
and  as  she  says  this  an  old  hag  comes  to  the  door  and 
cries: 

"Get  along;    don't  hinder  her  work!  " 

During  the  evening  a  man  to  whom  Em  has  been  talk- 
ing has  told  her: 

"You  ought  to  join  the  Salvation  Army ;  they  are  the 
only  good  women  who  bother  us  down  here.  I  don't 
want  to  lead  that  sort  of  life;  but  I  must  go  where  it  is 
light  and  warm  and  clean  after  working  all  day,  and 
there  isn't  anyplace  but  this  to  come  to,"  exclaimed  the 
man. 

"You  will  appreciate  the  plea  to-morrow  when  you  see 
how  the  people  live,"  Em  says,  as  we  turn  our  steps 
toward  the  tenement  room,  which  seems  like  an  oasis  of 
peace  and  purity  after  the  howling  desert  we  have  been 
wandering  in.  Em  and  Mattie  brew  some  oatmeal  gruel, 
and  being  chilled  and  faint,  we  enjoyed  a  cup  of  it.  Liz 
and  I  share  a  cot  in  the  outer  room.  We  are  just  going 
to  sleep  when  agonized  cries  ring  out  through  the  night; 
then  the  tones  of  a  woman's  voice  pleading  pitifully 
reach  our  ears.  We  are  unable  to  distinguish  her  words, 
but  the  sound  is  heart-rending.  It  comes  from  one  of 
those  dreadful  Water  Street  houses,  and  we  all  feel  that 
a  tragedy  is  taking  place.  There  is  a  sound  of  crashing 
blows  and  then  silence. 

It  is  customary  in  the  slums  to  leave  the  house  door 
open  perpetually,  which  is  convenient  for  tramps,  vv^ho 
creep  into  the  hall-ways  to  sleep  at  night,  thereby  saving 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  303 

the  few  pence  it  costs  to  occupy  a  "spot"  in  the  cheap 
lodging-houses.  Em  and  Mat  keep  the  corridor  without 
their  room  beautifully  clean,  and  so  it  has  become  an  es- 
pecial favorite  stamping-ground  for  these  vagrants.  We 
were  told  this  when  Mattie  locked  and  bolted  the  door 
and  then  tied  the  keys  and  the  door-handle  together.  So 
we  understand  why  there  are  shuffling  steps  along  the  cor- 
ridor, bumping  against  the  panels  of  the  door,  and  heavy 
breathing  without  during  the  long  hours  of  the  night. 

All  day  Em  and  Mat  have  been  toiling  among  their 
neighbors,  and  the  night  before  last  they  sat  up  with  a 
dying  woman.  They  are  worn  out  and  sleep  heavily. 
Liz  and  I  lie  awake  and  wait  for  the  coming  of  the 
morning;  we  are  too  oppressed  by  what  we  have  seen 
and  heard  to  talk. 

In  the  morning  Liz  and  I  peep  over  into  the  rear 
houses  where  we  heard  those  dreadful  shrieks  in  the 
night.  There  is  no  sign  of  life,  but  we  discover  enough 
filth  to  breed  diphtheria  and  typhoid  throughout  a  large 
section.  In  the  area  below  our  window  there  are  several 
inches  of  stagnant  water,  in  which  is  heaped  a  mass  of 
old  shoes,  cabbage  heads,  garbage,  rotten  wood,  bones, 
rags,  and  refuse,  and  a  few  dead  rats.  We  understand 
now  why  Em  keeps  her  room  full  of  disinfectants.  She 
tells  us  that  she  dare  not  make  any  appeal  to  the  sani- 
tary authorities,  either  on  behalf  of  their  own  or  any 
other  dwelling,  for  fear  of  antagonizing  the  people,  who 
consider  such  officials  as  their  natural  enemies. 

The  first  visit  we  pay  is  up  a  number  of  eccentric  little 
flights  of  shaky  steps  interspersed  with  twists  of  passage- 
way. The  floor  is  full  of  holes.  The  stairs  have  been 
patched  here  and  there,  but  look  perilous  and  sway  be- 
neath the  feet.  A  low  door  on  the  landing  is  opened  by 
a  bundle  of  rags  and  filth,  out  of  which  issues  a  wom- 
an's voice  in  husky  tones,  bidding  us  enter.  She  has 
La  grippe.  We  have  to  stand  very  close  together,  for 
the  room  is  small,  and  already  contains  three  women,  a 
man,  a  baby,  a  bedstead,  a  stove,  and  indescribable  dirt. 
The  atmosphere  is  rank  with  impurity.  The  man  is  evi- 
dently dying.  Seven  weeks  ago  he  was  "gripped."  He 
is  now  in  the  last  stages  of  pneumonia.  Em  has  tried 
to    induce    him    to    be  removed   to  the  hospital,  and  he 


201  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

gasps  out  his  desire  "to  die  in  comfort  in  my  own  bed." 
Comfort!  The  "bed"  is  a  rack  heaped  with  rags.  Sheets, 
pillow-cases,  and  night-clothes  are  not  in  vogue  in  the 
slums.  A  woman  lies  asleep  on  the  dirty  floor  with  her 
head  under  the  table.  Another  woman,  who  has  been 
sharing  the  night  watch  with  the  invalid's  wife,  is  finish- 
ing her  morning  meal,  in  which  roast  oysters  on  the  half 
shell  are  conspicuous.  A  child  that  appears  never  to 
have  been  washed  toddles  about  the  floor  and  tumbles 
over  the  sleeping  woman's  form.  Em  gives  it  some 
gruel,  and  ascertains  that  its  name  is  "Christine." 

The  dirt,  crowding,  and  smells  in  the  first  place  are 
characteristic  of  half  a  dozen  others  we  visited.  We 
penetrate  to  garrets  and  descend  into  cellars.  The  "rear 
houses"  are  particularly  dreadful.  Everywhere  there  is 
decaying  garbage  lying  about,  and  the  dead  cats  and 
rats  are  evidence  that  there  are  mighty  hunters  among 
the  gamins  of  the  Fourth  Ward.  We  find  a  number  ill 
from  the  grip  and  consequent  maladies.  None  of  the 
sufferers  will  entertain  the  thought  of  seeking  a  hospital. 
One  probably  voices  the  opinion  of  the  majority  when 
he  declares  that  "they'll  wash  you  to  death  there."  For 
these  people  a  bath  possesses  more  terrors  than  the 
gallows  or  the  grave. 

In  one  room,  with  a  wee  window,  lies  a  woman  dying 
of  consumption;  wasted,  wan,  and  wretched,  lying  on 
rags  and  swarming  with  vermin.  Her  little  son,  a  boy 
of  eight  years,  nestles  beside  her.  His  cheeks  are 
scarlet,  his  eyes  feverishly  bright,  and  he  has  a  hard 
cough. 

"It's  the  chills,  mum,"  says  the  little  chap. 

Six  beds  stand  close  together  in  another  room;  one  is 
empty.  Three  days  ago  a  woman  died  there,  and  the 
body  has  just  been  taken  away.  It  hasn't  disturbed  the 
rest  of  the  inmates  to  have  death  present  there.  A  woman 
is  Ijnng  on  the  wrecks  of  a  bedstead,  slats  and  posts 
sticking  out  in  every  direction  from  the  rags  on  which 
she  reposes. 

"It  broke  under  me  in  the  night,  mum,"  she  explains. 

A  woman  is  sick  and  wants  Liz  to  say  a  prayer.  We 
kneel  on  the  filthy  floor.  Soon  all  my  faculties  are 
absorbed    in    speculating    which    will    arrive    first,     the 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  205 

"Amen"  or  the  "B  flat"  which  is  wending  its  wa}^  towards 
me.  This  time  the  bug  does  not  get  there,  and  I  enjoy 
grinding  him  under  the  sole  of  my  Slum  shoe  when  the 
prayer  is  ended. 

In  another  room  we  find  what  looks  like  a  corpse.  It 
is  a  woman  in  ■  an  opium  stupor.  Drunken  men  are 
brawling  around  her. 

Returning  to  our  tenement,  Em  and  Liz  meet  us,  and 
we  return  to  our  experience.  The  minor  details  vary 
slightly,  but  the  story  is  the  same  piteous  tale  of  woe  every- 
where, and  crime  abounding,  conditions  which  only 
change  to  a  prison,  a  plunge  in  the  river,  or  the  Potter's 
field. 

The  Dark  Continent  can  show  no  lower  depth  of  deg- 
radation than  that  sounded  by  the  dwellers  of  the  dark 
alleys  in  Cherr)^  Hill.  There  isn't  a  vice  missing 
in  that  quarter.  Every  sin  in  the  Decalogue  flourishes  in 
that  feeder  of  penitentiaries  and  prisons.  And  even  as 
its  moral  foulness  permeates  and  poisons  the  veins  of 
our  social  life,  so  the  malarial  filth  with  which  the  local- 
ity reeks  must  sooner  or  later  spread    disease  and  death. 

An  awful  picture,  truly;  but  one  which  is  to  me  irra- 
diated with  the  love-light  which  shone  in  the  eyes  of 
"Em's  serious,  sweet,  saint-like  face." 

Here  is  my  second.  It  is  written  by  a  Journalist  who 
had  just  witnessed  the  scene  in  Whitechapel.  He 
writes: 

I  had  just  passed  Mr.  Barnett's  church  when  I  was 
stopped  by  a  small  crowd  at  a  street  corner.  There 
were  about  thirty  or  forty  men,  women,  and  children 
standing  loosely  together;  some  others  were  lounging 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  round  the  door  of  a 
public-house.  In  the  centre  of  the  crowd  was  a  plain- 
looking  little  woman  in  Salvation  Army  uniform,  with 
her  eyes  closed,  praying  the  "dear  Lord  that  He  would 
bless  these  dear  people,  and  save  them,  save  them  now!  " 
Moved  by  curiosity,  I  pressed  through  the  outer  fringe 
of  the  crowd,  and  in  doing  so  I  noticed  a  woman  of  an- 
other kind,  also  invoking  Heaven,  but  in  an  altogether 
different  fashion.     Two  dirty,   tramp-like  men  were  list- 


206  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

ening  to  the  prayer,  standing  the  while  smoking  their 
short  cutty  pipes.  For  some  reason  or  other  they  had 
offended  the  woman,  and  she  was  giving  them  a  piece 
of  her  mind.  They  stood  stolidly  silent  while  she  went 
at  them  like  a  fiend.  She  had  been  good-looking  once, 
but  was  now  horribly  bloated  with  drink,  and  excited  by 
passion.  I  heard  both  voices  at  the  same  time.  What 
a  contrast!  The  prayer  was  over  now,  and  a  pleading, 
earnest  address  was  being  delivered. 

"You  are  wrong,"  said  the  voice  in  the  centre:  "you 
know  you  are;  all  this  misery  and  poverty  is  a  proof  of 
it.  You  are  prodigals.  You  have  got  away  from  your 
Father's  house,  and  you  are  rebelling  against  Him  every 
day.  Can  you  wonder  that  there  is  so  much  hunger, 
and  oppression,  and  wretchedness  allowed  to  come  upon 
you?  In  the  midst  of  it  all  your  Father  loves  you.  He 
wants  you  to  return  to  Him;  to  turn  your  backs  upon 
your  sins;  abandon  your  evil  doings;  give  up  the  drink 
and  the  service  of  the  devil.  He  has  given  His  Son 
Jesus  Christ  to  die  for  you.  He  wants  to  save  you. 
Come  to  His  feet.  He  is  waiting.  His  arms  are  open. 
I  know  the  devil  has  got  fast  hold  of  you;  but  Jesus 
will  give  you  grace  to  conquer  him.  He  will  help  you 
to  master  your  wicked  habits  and  your  love  of  drink. 
But  come  to  Him  now.  God  is  love.  He  loves  me. 
He  loves  you.  He  loves  us  all.  He  wants  to  save  us 
all." 

Clear  and  strong  the  voice,  eloquent  with  the  fervor  of 
intense  feeling,  rang  through  the  little  crowd,  past  which 
streamed  the  ever-flowing  tide  of  East  End  life.  And 
at  the  same  time  that  I  heard  this  pure  and  passionate 
invocation    to    love    God    and  be  true  to  man,  I  heard  a 

voice  on  the  outskirts,  and  it  said  this:      "You swine! 

I'll  knock  the  vitals  out  of  yer.  None  of  your impu- 
dence to  me.     your eyes,    what   do   you  mean  by 

telling  me  that.^  You  know  what  you  ha'  done,  and  now 
you  are  going  to  the  Salvation  Army.  I'll  let  them  know 
you,  you  dirty  rascal."  The  man  shifted  his  pipe. 
"What's  the  matter?"     "Matter!"    screamed    the    virago 

hoarsely;  " yer  life,    don't   you   know    what's   the 

matter?     I'll  matter  ye,  you hound.     By  God!  I  will, 

as  sure  as    I'm    alive.     Matter!     you    know    what's    the 


AND  THE  WAY  out  207 

matter."  And  50  she  went  on,  the  men  standing  silently 
smoking  until  at  last  she  took  herself  off,  her  mouth 
full  of  oaths  and  cursing,  to  the  public-house.  It  seemed 
as  though  the  presence,  and  spirit,  and  words  of  the 
Officer,  who  still  went  on  with  the  message  of  mercy, 
had  some  strange  effect  upon  them,  which  made  these 
poor  wretches  impervious  to  the  taunting,  bitter  sar- 
casms of  this  brazen,  blatant  virago. 

"God  is  love."  Was  it  not,  then,  the  accents  of  God's 
voice  that  sounded  there  above  the  din  of  the  street  and 
the  swearing  of  the  slums?  Yea,  verily,  and  that  voice 
ceases  not,  and  will  not  cease  so  long  as  the  Slum  Sis- 
ters fight  under  the  banner  of  the  Salvation  Army. 

To  form  an  idea  of  the  immense  amount  of  good,  tem- 
poral and  spiritual,  which  the  Slum  Sister  is  doing,  you 
need  to  follow  them  into  the  kennels  where  they  live, 
preaching  the  Gospel  with  the  mop  and  the  scrubbing- 
brush,  and  driving  out  the  devil  with  soap  and  water. 
In  one  of  our  Slum  posts,  where  the  Officer's  rooms 
were  on  the  ground  floor,  about  fourteen  other  families 
lived  in  the  same  house.  One  little  water-closet  in  the 
back  yard  had  to  do  service  for  the  whole  place.  As  for 
the  dirt,  one  Officer  writes:  "It  is  impossible  to  scrub  the 
Homes;  some  of  them  are  in  such  a  filthy  condition. 
When  they  have  a  fire  the  ashes  are  left  to  accumulate 
for  days.  The  table  is  very  seldom,  if  ever,  properly 
cleaned;  dirty  cups  and  saucers  lie  about  it,  together 
with  bits  of  bread,  and  if  they  have  bloaters  the  bones 
and  heads  are  left  on  the  table.  Sometimes  there  are 
pieces  of  onions  mixed  up  with  the  rest.  The  floors  are 
in  a  very  much  worse  condition  than  the  street  pave- 
ments, and  when  they  are  supposed  to  clean  them  they 
do  it  with  about  a  pint  of  dirty  water.  When  they  wash, 
which  is  rarely,  for  washing  to  them  seems  an  unneces- 
sary work,  they  do  it  in  a  quart  or  two  of  water,  and 
sometimes  boil    the    things    in    some    old    saucepan  in 


208  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

which  they  cook  their  food.  They  do  this  simply  because 
they  have  no  larger  vessel  to  wash  in.  The  vermin  fall 
off  the  walls  and  ceiling  on  you  while  you  are  standing 
in  the  rooms.  Some  of  the  walls  are  covered  with  marks 
where  they  have  killed  them.  Many  people  in  the  sum- 
mer sit  on  the  door-steps  all  night,  the  reason  for  this 
being  that  their  rooms  are  so  close  from  the  heat  and 
so  unendurable  from,  ^he  vermin  that  they  prefer  stay- 
ing out  in  the  cool  night  air.  But  as  they  cannot  stay 
anywhere  long  without  drinking,  they  send  for  beer  from 
the  neighboring  public — alas!  never  far  away — and  pass 
it  from  one  doorway  to  another,  the  result  being  singing, 
shouting,  and  fighting  up  till  three  and  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning." 

I  could  fill  volumes  with  stories  of  the  war  against 
vermin,  which  is  part  of  this  campaign  in  the  slums, 
but  the  subject  is  too  revolting  to  those  who  are  often 
indifferent  to  the  agonies  their  fellow-creatures  suffer, 
so  long  as  their  sensitive  ears  are  not  shocked  by  the 
mention  of  so  painful  a  subject.  Here,  for  instance,  is 
a  sample  of  the  kind  of  region  in  which  the  Slum  Sis- 
ters spend  themselves: 

"In  an  apparently  respectable  street  near  Oxford 
Street,  the  Officers  were  visiting  one  day,  when  they  saw 
a  very  dark  staircase  leading  into  a  cellar,  and  thinking 
it  possible  that  someone  might  be  there,  they  attempted 
to  go  down,  and  yet  the  staircase  was  so  dark  they 
thought  it  impossible  for  anyone  to  be  there.  How- 
ever, they  tried  again,  and  groped  their  way  along  in  the 
dark  for  some  time,  until  at  last  they  found  the  door  and 
entered  the  room.  At  first  they  could  not  discern  any- 
thing because  of  the  darkness.  But  after  they  got  used 
to  it  they  saw  a  filthy  room.  There  was  no  fire  in  the 
grate,  but  the  fire-place  was  heaped  up  with  ashes,  an 
accumulation  of  several  weeks  at  least.     At  one   end    of 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  209 

the  room  there  was  an  old  sack  of  rags  and  bones  partly 
emptied  upon  the  floor,  from  which  there  came  a  most 
unpleasant  odor.  At  the  other  end  lay  an  old  man  very 
ill.  The  apology  for  a  bed  on  which  he  lay  was  filthy, 
and  had  neither  sheets  nor  blankets.  His  covering  con- 
sisted of  old  rags.  His  poor  wife,  who  attended  on  him, 
appeared  to  be  a  stranger  to  soap  and  water.  These 
Slum  Sisters  nursed  the  old  people,  and  on  one  occasion 
undertook  to  do  their  washing,  and  they  brought  it 
home  to  their  copper  for  this  purpose,  but  it  was  so  in- 
fested with  vermin  that  they  did  not  know  how  to  wash 
it.  Their  landlady,  who  happened  to  see  them,  forbade 
them  ever  to  bring  such  stuff  there  any  more.  The  old 
man,  when  well  enough,  worked  at  his  trade,  which  was 
tailoring.  They  had  two  shillings  and  sixpence  per 
week  from  the  parish.' 

Here  is  a  report  from  the  headquarters  of  our  Slum 
Brigade  as  to  the  work  which  the  Slum  Sisters  have 
done.  It  is  almost  four  years  since  the  Slum  Work  was 
started  in  London.  The  principal  work  done  by  our 
first  Officers  was  that  of  visiting  the  sick,  cleansing  the 
homes  of  the  Slummers,  and  of  feeding  the  hungry. 
The  following  are  a  few  of  the  cases  of  those  who  have 
gained  temporally,  as  well  as  spiritually,  through  our 
work: 

Mrs.  W. — Of  Haggerston  Slum.  Heavy  drinker; 
wrecked  home;  husband  a  drunkard;  place  dirty  and  fil- 
thy, terribly  poor.  Saved  now  over  two  years,  home 
Ai.,  plenty  of  employment  at  cane-chair  bottoming;  hus- 
band now  saved  also. 

Mrs.  R. — DruryLane  Slum.  Husband  and  wife  drunk- 
ards; husband  very  lazy,  only  worked  when  starved  into 
it.  We  found  them  both  out  of  work,  home  furniture- 
less,  in  debt.  She  got  saved,  and  our  lasses  prayed  for 
him  to  get  work.  He  did  so,  and  went  to  it.  He  fell 
out    again    a    few  weeks    after,  and    beat  his  wife.     She 

14 


510  IN  t)  ARK  Est  England 

sought  employment  at  charing  and  office-cleaning,  got  it, 
and  has  been  regularly  at  work  since.  He  too  got  work. 
He  is  now  a  teetotaler.  The  home  is  very  comfortable 
now,  and  they  are  putting  money  in  the  bank. 

A.  M.,  in  the  Dials.  Was  a  great  drunkard,  thrift- 
less; did  not  go  to  the  trouble  of  seeking  work.  Was  in 
a  Slum  meeting,  heard  the  Captain  speak  on  "Seek  first 
the  Kingdom  of  God!  "  called  out  and  said,  "Do  you 
mean  that  if  I  ask  God  for  work.  He  will  give  it  me?" 
Of  course  she  said,  "Yes."  He  was  converted  that  night, 
found  work,  and  is  now  employed  in  the  Gas  Works, 
Old  Kent  Road. 

Jimmy  is  a  soldier  in  the  Boro'  Slum.  Was  starving 
when  he  got  converted  through  being  out  of  work. 
Through  joining  the  Army,  he  was  turned  out  of  his 
home.  He  found  work,  and  now  owns  a  coffee-stall  in 
Billingsgate  Market,  and  is  doing  well. 

Sergeant  R. — Of  Marylebone  Slum.  Used  to  drink, 
lived  in  a  wretched  place  in  the  famous  Charles  Street; 
had  work  at  two  places,  at  one  of  which  he  got  5s.  a  week, 
and  the  other  los.,  when  he  got  saved;  this  was  starva- 
tion wages,  on  which  to  keep  himself,  his  wife,  and 
four  children.  At  the  los.  a  week  work  he  had  to  de- 
liver drink  for  a  spirit  merchant;  feeling  condemned  over 
it,  he  gave  it  up,  and  was  out  of  work  for  weeks.  The 
brokers  were  put  in,  but  the  Lord  rescued  him  just  in 
time.  The  5s.  a  week  employer  took  him  afterwards  at 
i8s.,  and  he  is  now  earning  22s.,  and  has  left  the  ground- 
floor  Slum  tenement  for  a  better  house. 

H. — Nine  Elms  Slum.  Was  saved  on  Easter  Mon- 
day; out  of  work  several  weeks  before;  is  a  laborer;  seems 
very  earnest,  in  terrible  distress.  We  allow  his  wife  2s. 
6d.  a  week  for  cleaning  the  hall  (to  help  them).  In  ad- 
dition to  that,  she  gets  another  2s.  6d.  for  nursing,  and 
on  that  husband,  wife,  and  a  couple  of  children  pay  the 
rent  of  2s.  a  week  and  drag  out  an  existence.  I  have 
tried  to  get  work  for  this  man,  but  have  failed. 

T.  — Of  Rotherhithe  Slum.  Was  a  great  drunkard;  is 
a  carpenter;  saved  about  nine  months  ago,  but,  having 
to  work  in  a  public-house  on  a  Sunday,  he    gave    it   up; 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  2 1 1 

he  has  not  been  able  to  get  another  job,  and  has  nothing 
but  what  we  have  given  him  for  making  seats. 

Emma  Y. — Now  a  Soldier  of  the  Marylebone  Slum  Post, 
was  a  wild  young  Slummer  when  we  opened  in  the  Boro' ; 
could  be  generally  seen  in  the  streets,  wretchedly  clad, 
her  sleeves  turned  up,  idle,  only  worked  occasionally; 
got  saved  two  years  ago,  had  terrible  persecution  in  her 
home.  We  got  her  a  situation,  where  she  has  been  for 
nearly  eighteen  months,  and  is  now  a  good  servant. 

Lodging-House  Frank. — At  twenty-one  came  into  the 
possession  of  ^750,  but,  through  drink  and  gambling,  lost 
it  all  in  six  or  eight  months,  and  for  over  seven  years  he 
has  tramped  about  from  Portsmouth,  through  the  South 
of  England,  and  South  Wales,  from  one  lodging-house 
to  another,  often  starving,  drinking  when  he  could  get 
any  money;  thriftless,  idle,  no  heart  for  work.  We 
found  him  in  a  lodging-house  six  months  ago,  living 
with  a  fallen  girl;  got  them  both  saved  and  married; 
five  weeks  after  he  got  work  as  a  carpenter  at  30s.  a  week. 
He  has  a  home  of  his  own  now,  and  promises  well  to 
make  an  Officer. 

The  Officer  who  furnishes  the  above  reports  goes  on  to 
say: 

I  can't  call  the  wretched  dwelling  home,  to  which 
drink  had  brought  Brother  and  Sister  X.  From  a  life  of 
luxury,  they  drifted  down  by  degrees  to  one  room  in  a 
Slum  tenement,  surrounded  by  drunkards  and  the  vilest 
characters.  Their  lovely  half-starved  children  were 
compelled  to  listen  to  the  foulest  language,  and  hear 
fighting  and  quarreling,  and  alas,  alas,  not  only  to  hear 
it  in  the  adjoining  rooms,  but  witness  it  within  their 
own.  For  over  two  years  they  have  been  delivered  from 
the  power  of  the  cursed  drink.  The  old  rookery  is  gone, 
and  now  they  have  a  comfortably  furnished  home.  Their 
children  give  evidence  of  being  truly  converted,  and  have 
a  lively  gratitude  for  their  father's  salvation.  One  boy  of 
eight  said,  last  Christmas  Day,  "I  remember  when  we 
had  only  dry  bread  for  Christmas;  but  to-day  we  had  a 
goose  and  two  plum  puddings."  Brother  X.  was  dis- 
missed   in    disgrace    from    his    situation  as  commercial 


213  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

traveler  before  his  conversion;   to-day  he  is    chief    man, 
next  to  his  employer,  in  a  large  business  house. 

He  says: 

I  am  perfectly  satisfied  that  very  few  of  the  lowest 
strata  of  Society  are  unwilling  to  work  if  they  could  get 
it.  The  wretched  hand-to-mouth  existence  many  of 
them  have  to  live  disheartens  them,  and  makes  life  with 
them  either  a  feast  or  a  famine,  and  drives  those  who  have 
brains  enough  to  crime. 

The  results  of  our  work  in  the  Slums  may  be  put 
down  as: 

"ist.  A  marked  improvement  in  the  cleanliness  of  the 
homes  and  children;  disappearance  of  vermin,  and  a 
considerable  lessening  of  drunkenness. 

"2d.  A  greater  respect  for  true  religion,  and  espe- 
cially that  of  the  Salvation  Army. 

"3d.  A  much  larger  amount  of  work  is  being  done 
now  than  before  our  going  there. 

"4th.   The  rescue  of  many  fallen  girls. 

"5th.  The  Shelter  work  seems  to  us  a  development  of 
the  Slum  work. 

In  connection  with  our  Scheme,  we  propose  to  imme- 
diately increase  the  numbers  of  these  Slum  Sistens,  and 
to  add  to  their  usefulness  by  directly  connecting  their 
operations  with  the  Colony,  enabling  them  thereby  to 
help  the  poor  people  to  conditions  of  life  more  favor- 
able to  health,  morals,  and  religion.  This  would  be  ac- 
complished by  getting  some  of  them  employment  in  the 
City,  which  must  necessarily  result  in  better  homes  and 
surroundings,  or  in  the  opening  up  for  others  of  a  straight 
course  from  the  Slums  to  the  Farm  Colony. 

Section  II.— THE  TRAVELING  HOSPITAL 

Of  course,  there  is  only  one  real  remedy  for  this  state 
of  things,  and  that  is  to  take  the  people   away  from   the 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  213 

wretched  hovels  in  which  they  sicken,  suffer,  and  die 
with  less  comfort  and  consideration  than  the  cattle  in 
the  stalls  and  sties  of  many  a  country  squire.  And  this 
is  certainly  our  ultimate  ambition,  but  for  the  present 
distress  something  might  be  done  en  the  lines  of  district 
nursing,  which  is  only  in  very  imperfect  operation. 

I  have  been  thinking  that  if  a  little  Van,  drawn  by  a 
pony,  could  be  fitted  up  with  what  is  ordinarily  required 
by  the  sick  and  dying,  and  trot  round  amongst  these 
abodes  of  desolation,  with  a  couple  of  nurses  trained  for 
the  business,  it  might  be  of  immense  service,  without 
being  very  costly.  They  could  have  a  few  simple  instru- 
ments, so  as  to  draw  a  tooth  or  lance  an  abscess,  and 
what  was  absolutely  requisite  for  simple  surgical  opera- 
tions. A  little  oil-stove  for  hot  water  to  prepare  a  poul- 
tice, or  a  hot  fomet,  or  a  soap  wash,  and  a  number  of 
other  necessaries  for  nursing,  could  be  carried  with 
ease. 

The  need  for  this  will  only  be  appreciated  by  those 
who  know  how  utterly  bereft  of  all  the  comforts  and  con- 
veniences for  attending  to  the  smallest  matters  in  sick- 
ness which  prevails  in  these  abodes  of  wretchedness.  It 
may  be  suggested,  Why  don't  the  people  when  they  are 
ill  go  to  the  hospital?  To  which  we  simply  reply  that 
they  won't.  They  cling  to  their  own  bits  of  rooms  and 
to  the  companionship  of  the  members  of  their  own  fam- 
ilies, brutal  as  they  often  are,  and  would  rather  stay  and 
suffer,  and  die  in  the  midst  of  all  the  filth  and  squalor 
that  surrounds  them  in  their  own  dens,  than  go  to  the 
big  house,  which,  to  them,  looks  very  like  a  prison. 

The  sufferings  of  the  wretched  occupants  of  the  Slums 
that  we  have  been  describing,  when  sick  and  unable  to 
help  themselves,  makes  th©  organization  of  some  system 
of  nursing  them  in  their  own  homes  a  Christian  duty. 
Here  are  a  handful  of  cases,  gleaned  almost    at    random 


214  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

from  the  reports    of    our  Slum  Sisters,  which  will  show 
the  value  of  the  agency  above  described: 

Many  of  those  who  are  sick  have  often  only  one  room, 
and  often  several  children.  The  Officers  come  across 
many  cases  where,  with  no  one  to  look  after  them,  they 
have  to  lie  for  hours  without  food  or  nourishment  of 
any  kind.  Sometimes  the  neighbors  will  take  them  in 
a  cup  of  tea.      It  is  really  a  mystery  how  they  live. 

A  poor  woman  in  Drury  Lane  was  paralyzed.  She  had 
no  one  to  attend  to  her;  she  lay  on  the  floor,  on  a  stuffed 
sack,  and  an  old  piece  of  cloth  to  cover  her.  Although 
it  was  winter,  she  very  seldom  had  any  fire.  She  had 
no  garments  to  wear,  and  but  very  little  to  eat. 

Another  poor  woman,  who  was  very  ill,  was  allowed  a 
little  money  by  her  daughter  to  pay  her  rent  and  get  her 
food;  but  very  frequently  she  had  not  the  strength  to 
light  a  fire  or  to  get  herself  food.  She  was  parted  from 
her  husband  because  of  his  cruelty.  Often  she  lay  for 
hours  without  a  soul  to  visit  or  help  her. 

Adjutant  McClellan  found  a  man  lying  on  a  straw 
mattress  in  a  very  bad  condition.  The  room  was  filthy; 
the  smell  made  the  Officer  feel  ill.  The  man  had  been 
lying  for  days  without  having  anything  done  for  him.  A 
cup  of  water  was  by  his  side.  The  Officers  vomited 
from  the  terrible  smells  of  this  place. 

Frequently  sick  people  are  found  who  need  the  con- 
tinual application  of  hot  poultices,  but  who  are  left  with 
a  cold  one  for  hours. 

In  Marylebone  the  Officers  visited  a  poor  woman  who 
was  very  ill.  She  lived  in  an  underground  back  kitchen, 
with  hardly  a  ray  of  light  and  never  a  ray  of  sunshine. 
Her  bed  was  made  up  on  some  egg  boxes.  She  had  no 
one  to  look  after  her,  except  a  drunken  daughter,  who 
very  often,  when  drunk,  used  to  knock  the  poor  old 
woman  about  very  badly.  The  Officers  frequently  found 
that  she  had  not  eaten  any  food  up  to  twelve  o'clock, 
not  even  a  cup  of  tea  to  drink.  The  only  furniture  in 
the  room  was  a  small  table,  an  old  fender,  and  a  box. 
The  vermin  seemed  to  be  innumerable. 

A  poor  woman  was  taken  very  ill,  but,  having  a  small 
family,  she  felt  she  must  get  up  and  wash  them.     While 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  215 

she  was  washing  the  baby  she  fell  down  and  was  unable 
to  move.  Fortunately  a  neighbor  came  in  soon  after  to 
ask  some  question,  and  saw  her  lying  there.  She  at 
once  ran  and  fetched  another  neighbor.  Thinking  the 
poor  woman  was  dead,  they  got  her  into  bed  and  sent 
for  a  doctor.  He  said  she  was  in  consumption,  and  re- 
quired  quiet  and  nourishment.  This  the  poor  woman 
could  not  get,  on  account  of  her  children.  She  got  up  a 
few  hours  afterwards.  As  she  was  going  down-stairs 
she  fell  down  again.  The  neighbor  picked  her  up  and 
put  her  back  to  bed,  where  for  a  long  time  she  lay  thor- 
oughly prostrated.  The  Officers  took  her  case  in  hand, 
fed  and  nursed  her,  cleaned  her  room,  and  generally 
looked  after  her. 

In  another  dark  slum  the  Officers  found  a  poor  old  woman 
in  an  underground  back  kitchen.  She  was  suffering  with 
some  complaint.  When  they  knocked  at  the  door  she 
was  terrified  for  fear  it  was  the  landlord.  The  room 
was  in  a  most  filthy  condition,  never  having  been  cleaned. 
She  had  a  penny  paraffin  lamp,  which  filled  the  room 
with  smoke.  The  old  woman  was  at  times  totally  unable 
to  do  anything  for  herself.     The  Officers  looked  after  her. 

Section  III.— REGENERATION  OF  OUR  CRIMINALS 
—THE  PRISON  GATE  BRIGADE 

Our  Prisons  ought  to  be  reforming  institutions,  which 
should  turn  men  out  better  than  when  they  entered  their 
doors.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  are  often  quite  the 
reverse.  There  are  few  persons  in  this  world  more  to 
be  pitied  than  the  poor  fellow  who  has  served  his  first 
term  of  imprisonment  or  finds  himself  outside  the  jail 
doors  without  a  character,  and  often  wichout  a  friend 
in  the  world.  Here,  again,  the  process  of  centralization, 
gone  on  apace  of  late  years,  however  desirable  it  may 
be  in  the  interests  of  administration,  tells  with  disas- 
trous effects  on  the  poor  wretches  who  are  its  victims. 

In  the  old  times,  when  a  man  was  sent  to  prison,  the 
jail  stood   within  a  stone's  throw  of    his    home.     When 


C 1 6  I N  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

he  came  out  he  was  at  any  rate  close  to  his  old  friends 
and  relations,  who  would  take  him  in  and  give  him  a  help- 
ing hand  to  start  once  more  a  new  life.  But  what  has 
happened  owing  to  the  desire  of  the  Government  to  do 
away  with  as  many  local  jails  as  possible?  The  pris- 
oners, when  convicted,  are  sent  long  distances  by  rail  to 
the  central  prisons,  and  on  coming  out  find  themselves 
cursed  with  the  brand  of  the  jail-bird,  so  far  from  home, 
character  gone,  and  with  no  one  to  fall  back  upon  r 
counsel,  or  to  give  them  a  helping  hand.  No  wonder  it 
is  reported  that  vagrancy  has  much  increased  in  some 
large  towns  on  account  of  discharged  prisoners  taking  to 
begging,  having  no  other  resource. 

In  the  competition  for  work  no  employer  is  likely  to  take 
a  man  who  is  fresh  from  jail;  nor  are  mistresses  likely 
to  engage  a  servant  whose  last  character  was  her  dis- 
charge from  one  of  Her  Majesty's  prisons.  It  is  incred- 
ible how  much  mischief  is  often  done  by  well-meaning 
persons,  who,  in  struggling  towards  the  attainment  of 
an  excellent  end — such,  for  instance,  as  that  of  economy 
and  efficiency  in  prison  administration — forget  entirely 
the  bearing  which  their  reforms  may  have  upon  the 
prisoners  themselves. 

The  Salvation  Army  has  at  least  one  great  qualifica- 
tion for  dealing  with  this  question.  I  believe  I  am  in 
the  proud  position  of  being  at  the  head  of  the  only  relig- 
ious body  which  has  always  some  of  its  mem.bers  in 
jail  for  conscience  sake.  We  are  also  one  of  the  few  re- 
ligious bodies  which  can  boast  that  many  of  those  who 
are  in  our  ranks  have  gone  through  terms  of  penal  servi- 
tude. We,  therefore,  know  the  prison  at  both  ends. 
Some  men  go  to  jail  because  they  are  better  than  their 
neighbors,  most  men  because  they  are  worse.  Martyrs, 
patriots,  reformers  of  all  kinds  belong  to  the  first  category. 
No  great  cause  has  ever  achieved  a  triumph  before  it  has 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  217 

furnished  a  certain  quota  to  the  prison  population.  The 
repeal  of  an  unjust  law  is  seldom  carried  until  a  certain 
number  of  those  who  are  laboring  for  the  reform  have 
experienced  in  their  own  persons  the  hardships  of  fine  and 
imprisonment.  Christianity  itself  would  never  have 
triumphed  over  the  Paganism  of  ancient  Rome  had  the 
early  Christians  not  been  enabled  to  testify  from  the 
dungeon  and  the  arena  as  to  the  sincerity  and  serenity 
of  soul  with  which  they  could  confront  their  persecutors, 
and  from  that  time  down  to  the  successful  struggles  of 
our  people  for  the  right  of  public  meeting  at  Whit- 
church and  elsewhere,  the  Christian  religion  and  the 
liberties  of  men  have  never  failed  to  demand  their  quota 
of   martyrs  for  the  faith. 

When  a  man  has  been  to  prison  in  the  best  of  causes, 
he  learns  to  look  at  the  question  of  prison  discipline 
with  a  much  more  sympathetic  eye  for  those  who  are 
sent  there,  even  for  the  worst  offenses,  than  judges  and 
legislators  who  only  look  at  the  prison  from  the  outside. 
"A  fellow  feeling  makes  one  wondrous  kind,"  and  it  is  an 
immense  advantage  to  us  in  dealing  with  the  criminal 
classes  that  many  of  our  best  Officers  have  themselves 
been  in  a  prison  cell.  Our  people,  thank  God,  have 
never  learned  to  regard  a  prisoner  as  a  mere  convict — A 
234.  He  is  ever  a  human  being  to  them,  who  is  to  be 
cared  for  and  looked  after  as  a  mother  looks  after  her 
ailing  child.  At  present  there  seems  to  be  but  little 
likelihood  of  any  real  reform  in  the  interior  of  our  pris- 
ons. We  have  therefore  to  wait  until  the  men  come  out- 
side in  order  to  see  what  can  be  done.  Our  work  begins 
when  that  of  the  prison  authorities  ceases.  We  have 
already  had  a  good  deal  of  experience  in  this  work,  both 
here  and  in  Bombay,  in  Ceylon,  in  South  Africa,  in  Aus- 
tralia, and  elsewhere,  and  as  the  net  result  of  our  expe- 
rience we  proceed  now  to  set  forth  the  measures    we    in- 


218  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

tend  to  adopt,  some  of  which    are  already    in  successfiJs. 
operation. 

1.  We  propose  the  opening  of  Homes  for  this  class 
as  near  as  possible  to  the  different  jails.  One  for  men 
has  just  been  taken  at  King's  Cross,  and  will  be  occu- 
pied as  soon  as  it  can  be  got  ready.  One  for  women 
must  follow  immediately.  Others  will  be  required  in 
different  parts  of  the  Metropolis,  and  contiguous  to  each 
of  its  great  prisons.  Connected  with  these  Homes  will 
be  workshops  in  which  the  inmates  will  be  regularly  em- 
ployed until  such  time  as  we  can  get  them  work  else- 
where. For  this  class  must  also  work,  not  only  as  a 
discipline,  but  as  the  means  for  their  own  support. 

2.  In  order  to  save,  as  far  as  possible,  first  offenders 
from  the  contamination  of  prison  life,  and  to  prevent 
the  formation  of  further  evil  companionships,  and  the 
recklessness  which  follows  the  loss  of  character  entailed  by 
imprisonment,  we  would  offer,  in  the  Police  and  Crimi- 
nal Courts,  to  take  such  offenders  under  our  wing  as 
were  anxious  to  come  and  willing  to  accept  our  regula- 
tions. The  confidence  of  both  magistrates  and  prisoners 
would,  we  think,  soon  he  secured,  the  friends  of  the 
latter  would  be  mostly  on  our  side,  and  the  probability, 
therefore,  is  that  we  should  soon  have  a  large  number 
of  cases  placed  under  our  care  on  what  is  known  as 
"suspended  sentence,"  to  be  brought  up  for  judgment 
when  called  upon,  the  record  of  each  sentence  to  be 
wiped  out  on  report  being  favorable  of  their  conduct  in 
the  Salvation  Army  Home. 

3.  We  should  seek  access  to  the  prisons  in  order  to 
gain  such  acquaintance  with  the  prisoners  as  would  en- 
able us  the  more  effectually  to  benefit  them  on  their  dis- 
charge. This  privilege,  we  think,  would  be  accorded  us 
by  the  prison  authorities  when  they  became  acquainted 
with  the  nature  of  our    work  and  the  remarkable   results 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  210 

which  followed  it.  The  right  of  entry  into  the  jails 
has  already  been  conceded  to  our  people  in  Australia, 
where  they  have  free  access  to,  and  communion  withj  the 
inmates  while  undergoing  their  sentences.  Prisoners 
are  recommended  to  come  to  us  by  the  jail  authorities, 
who  also  forward  to  our  people  information  of  the  date 
and  hour  when  they  leave,  in  order  that  thej^  may  be  met 
on  their  release. 

4.  We  propose  to  meet  the  criminals  at  the  prison 
gates  with  the  offer  of  immediate  admission  to  our 
Homes.  The  general  rule  is  for  them  to  be  met  by  their 
friends  or  old  associates,  who  ordinarily  belong  to  the 
same  class.  Any  way,  it  would  be  an  exception  to  the 
rule  were  they  not  all  alike  believers  in  the  comforting 
and  cheering  power  of  the  intoxicating  cup.  Hence  the 
public-house  is  invariably  adjourned  to,  where  plans  for 
further  crime  are  often  decided  upon  straight  away,  re- 
sulting frequently,  before  many  weeks  are  past,  in  the 
return  of  the  liberated  convict  to  the  confinement  from 
which  he  has  just  escaped.  Having  been  accustomed 
during  confinement  to  the  implicit  submission  of  them- 
selves to  the  will  of  another,  the  newly-discharged  pris- 
oner is  easily  influenced  by  whoever  first  gets  hold  of  him. 
Now,  we  propose  to  be  beforehand  with  these  old  com- 
panions by  taking  the  jail-bird  under  our  wing  and  set- 
ting before  him  an  open  door  of  hope  the  moment  he 
crosses  the  threshold  of  the  prison,  assuring  him  that  if 
he  is  willing  to  work  and  comply  with  our  discipline,  he 
never  need  know  want  any  more. 

5.  We  shall  seek  from  the  authorities  the  privilege  of 
supervising  and  reporting  upon  those  who  are  dis- 
charged with  tickets-of- leave,  so  as  to  free  them  from 
the  humiliating  and  harassing  duty  of  having  to  report 
themselves  at  the  police  stations. 

6.  We  shall  find  suitable  employment  for  each  individ- 


320  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

ual.  If  not  in  possession  of  some  useful  Irade  or  call- 
ing, we  will  teach  him  one. 

7.  After  a  certain  length  of  residence  in  these  Homes, 
if  consistent  evidence  is  given  of  a  sincere  purpose  to 
live  an  honest  life,  he  will  be  transferred  to  the  Farm 
Colony,  unless  in  the  meanwhile  friends  or  old  employers 
take  him  off  our  hands,  or  some  other  form  of  occupa- 
tion is  obtained,  in  which  case  he  will  still  be  the  ob- 
ject of  watchful  care. 

We  shall  offer  to  all  the  ultimate  possibility  of  being 
restored  to  Society  in  the  country,  or  transferred  to  com- 
mence life  afresh  in  another. 

With  respect  to  results  we  can  speak  very  positively, 
for  although  our  operations  up  to  the  present,  except  for 
a  short  time  some  three  years  ago,  have  been  limited, 
and  unassisted  by  the  important  accessories  above  de- 
scribed, yet  the  success  that  has  attended  them  has  been 
most  remarkable.  The  following  are  a  few  instances 
which  might  be  multiplied: 

J.  W.  was  met  at  prison  gate  by  the  Captain  of  the 
Home  and  offered  help.  He  declined  to  come  at  once, 
as  he  had  friends  in  Scotland  who  he  thought  would  help 
him;  but  if  they  failed,  he  promised  to  come.  It  was 
his  first  conviction,  and  he  had  six  months  for  robbing 
his  employer.  His  trade  was  that  of  a  baker.  In  a 
few  days  he  presented  himself  at  the  Home,  and  was 
received.  In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  he  professed 
conversion,  and  gave  every  evidence  of  the  change.  For 
four  months  he  was  cook  and  baker  in  the  kitchen,  and 
at  last  a  situation  as  second  hand  was  offered  for  him, 
with  the  J.  S.  Sergeant-Major  of  the  Congress  Hall 
Corps.  That  is  three  years  ago.  He  is  there  to-day, 
saved,  and  satisfactory;  a  thoroughly  useful  and  respect- 
able   man. 

J.  P.  was  an  old  offender.  He  was  met  at  Millbank 
on  the  expiration  of  his  last  term  (five  years),  and 
brought  to  the  Home,  where  he  worked  at  his  trade 
— a  tailor.      Eventually  he  got  a  situation,  and  has  since 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  221 

married.  He  has  now  a  good  home,  the  confidence  of 
his  neighbors,  is  well  saved,  and  a  soldier  of  the 
Hackney  Corps. 

C.  M.  Old  offender,  and  penal  servitude  case.  Was 
induced  to  come  to  the  Home,  got  saved,  was  there  for 
a  long  period,  offered  for  the  work,  and  went  into  the 
Field,  was  Lieutenant  for  two  years,  and  eventually  mar- 
ried. He  is  now  a  respectable  mechanic  and  soldier  of 
a  Corps  in  Derbyshire. 

J.  W.  Was  manager  in  a  large  West  End  millinery 
establishment.  He  was  sent  out  with  two  ten-pound 
packages  of  silver  to  change.  On  his  way  he  met  a  com- 
panion and  was  induced  to  take  a  drink.  In  the  tavern 
the  companion  made  an  excuse  to  go  outside  and  did  not 
return,  and  W.  found  one  of  the  packages  had  been  ab- 
stracted from  his  outside  pocket.  He  was  afraid  to  re- 
turn, and  decamped  with  the  other  into  the  country. 
Whilst  in  a  small  town  he  strolled  into  a  Mission  Hall; 
there  happened  to  be  a  hitch  in  the  proceedings,  the  or- 
ganist was  absent,  a  volunteer  was  called  for,  and  W., 
being  a  good  musician,  offered  to  play.  It  seems  the 
music  took  hold  of  him.  In  the  middle  of  the  hymn  he 
walked  out  and  went  to  the  police  station  and  gave 
himself  up.  He  got  six  months.  When  he  came  out 
he  saw  that  Happy  George,  an  ex-jail-bird,  was  an- 
nounced at  the  Congress  Hall.  He  went  to  the  meeting 
and  was  induced  to  come  to  the  Home.  He  eventually 
got  saved,  and  to-day  he  is  at  the  head  of  a  Mission  work 
in  the  provinces. 

"Old  Dan"  was  a  penal  servitude  case,  and  had  had  sev- 
eral long  sentences.  He  came  into  the  Home  and  was 
saved.  He  managed  the  bootmaking  there  for  a  long 
time.  He  has  since  gone  into  business  at  Hackney,  and 
is  married.  He  is  of  four  years'  standing,  a  thorough 
respectable  tradesman,  and  a  Salvationist. 

Charles  C.  has  done  in  the  aggregate  twenty-three 
years'  penal  servitude.  Was  out  on  license,  and  got 
saved  at  the  Hull  Barracks.  At  that  time  he  had  neg- 
lected to  report  himself,  and  had  destroyed  his  license, 
taking  an  assumed  name.  When  he  got  saved  he  gave 
himself  up,  and  was  taken  before  the  magistrate,  who, 
instead  of  sending  him  back  to  fulfill  his  sentence,  gave 


'2%^  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

him  up  to  the  Army.  He  was  sent  to  us  from  Hull  by 
our  representative,  is  now  in  our  factory  and  doing  well. 
He  is  still  under  police  supervision  for  five  years. 

H.  Kelso.  Also  a  license  man.  He  had  neglected  to 
report  himself,  and  was  arrested.  While  before  the  mag- 
istrate he  said  he  was  tired  of  dishonesty,  and  would  go 
to  the  Salvation  Army  if  they  would  discharge  him.  He 
was  sent  back  to  penal  servitude.  Application  was 
made  by  us  to  the  Home  Secretary  on  his  behalf,  and 
Mr.  Matthews  granted  his  release.  He  was  handed  over 
to  our  Officers  at  Bristol,  brought  to  London,  and  is 
now  in  the  Factory,  saved  and  doing  well. 

Edwin  Watts  belongs  to  Birmingham,  is  in  his  forty- 
ninth  year,  and  has  been  in  and  out  of  prison  all  his 
life.  He  was  at  Redhill  Reformatory  five  years,  and  his 
last  term  was  five  years'  penal  servitude.  The  Chap- 
lain at  Pentonville  advised  him,  if  he  really  meant  ref- 
ormation, to  seek  the  Salvation  Army  on  his  release.  He 
came  to  Thames  Street,  was  sent  to  the  Workshop,  and 
professed  salvation  the  following  Sunday  at  the  Shelter. 
This  is  three  months  ago.  He  is  quite  satisfactory,  in- 
dustrious, contented  and  seemingly  godly. 

A.  B.,  gentleman  loafer,  good  prospects;  drink  and  idle- 
ness broke  up  his  home,  killed  his  wife,  and  got  him  into 
jail.  Presbyterian  minister,  friend  of  his  family,  tried  to 
reclaim  him,  but  unsuccessfully.  He  entered  the  Pris- 
on Gate  Home,  became  thoroughly  saved,  distributed 
handbills  for  the  Home,  and  ultimately  got  work  in  a 
large  printing  and  publishing  works,  where,  after  three 
years'  service,  he  now  occupies  a  most  responsible  posi- 
tion. Is  an  elder  in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  restored 
to  his  family,  and  the  possessor  of  a  happy  home. 

W.  C,  a  native  of  London,  a  good-for-nothing  lad,  idle 
and  dissolute.  When  leaving  England  his  father 
warned  him  that  if  he  didn't  alter  he'd  end  his  days 
on  the  gallows.  Served  various  sentences  on  all  sorts 
of  charges.  Over  six  years  ago  we  took  him  in  hand, 
admitted  him  into  Prison  Gate  Brigade  Home,  where  he 
became  truly  saved;  he  got  a  job  of  painting  which 
he  had  learnt  in  jail,  and  has  married  a  woman  who  had 
formerly  been  a  procuress,  but  had  passed  through  our 
Rescued    Sinners'  Home,  and  there    became  thoroughly 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  223 

converted.  Together  they  have  braved  the  storms  of 
life,  both  working  diligently  for  their  living.  They  have 
now  a  happy  little  home  of  their  own,  and  are  doing 
very  well. 

F.  X.,  the  son  of  a  Government  officer,  a  drunkard,  gam- 
bler, forger,  and  all-round  blackguard;  served  numerous 
sentences  for  forgery.  On  his  last  discharge  was  admit- 
ted into  Prison  Gate  Brigade  Home,  where  he  staid 
about  five  months,  and  became  truly  saved.  Although  his 
health  was  completely  shattered  from  the  effects  of 
his  sinful  life,  he  steadfastly  resisted  all  temptations  to 
drink,  and  kept  true  to  God.  Through  advertising  in  the 
War  Cry,  he  found  his  lost  son  and  daughter,  who  are 
delighted  with  the  wonderful  change  in  their  father. 
They  have  become  regular  attendants  at  our  meetings  in 
the  Temperance  Hall.  He  now  keeps  a  coffee-stall,  is 
doing  well,  and  properly  saved. 

G.  A.,  72,  spent  23  years  in  jail,  last  sentence  two 
years  for  burglary;  was  a  drunkard,  gambler,  and  swearer. 
Met  on  his  discharge  by  the  Prison  Gate  Brigade,  admit- 
ted into  Home,  where  he  remained  four  months,  and  be- 
came truly  saved.  He  is  living  a  consistent,  godly  life, 
and  is  in  employment. 

C.  D.,  aged  64,  opium-smoker,  gambler,  blackguard, 
separated  from  wife  and  family,  and  eventually  landed 
in  jail,  was  met  on  his  discharge  and  admitted  into 
Prison  Gate  Brigade  Home,  was  saved,  and  is  now 
restored  to  his  wife  and  family,  and  giving  satisfaction 
in  his  employment. 

S.  T.  was  an  idle,  loafing,  thieving,  swearing,  disrepu- 
table young  man,  who  lived,  when  out  of  jaij,  with  the 
low  prostitutes  of  Little  Bourke  Street.  Was  taken  in 
hand  by  our  Prison  Gate  Brigade  Officers,  who  got  him 
saved,  then  found  him  work.  After  a  few  months  he 
expressed  a  desire  to  work  for  God,  and  although  a 
cripple  and  having  to  use  a  crutch,  such  was  his  earnest- 
ness that  he  was  accepted  and  has  done  good  service  as 
an  Army  officer.  His  testimony  is  good  and  his  life 
consistent.      He  is,  indeed,  a  marvel  of  Divine  grace. 

M.  J.,  a  young  man  holding  a  high  position  in  England, 
got  into  a  fast  set;  thought    a    change    to    the    Colonies 


224  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

would  be  to  his  advantage.  Started  ior  Australia  with 
^200  odd,  of  which  he  spent  a  good  portion  on  board 
ship  in  drink,  soon  dissipated  the  balance  on  landing, 
and  woke  up  one  morning  to  find  himself  in  jail  with 
delirium  tremens  on  him,  no  money,  his  luggage  lost, 
and  without  a  friend  on  the  whole  continent.  On  his 
discharge  he  entered  our  Prison  Gate  Home,  became 
converted,  and  is  now  occupying  a  responsible  position 
in  a  Colonial  Bank. 

B.  C,  a  man  of  good  birth,  education,  and  position; 
drank  himself  out  of  home  and  friends  and  into  jail,  on 
leaving  which  he  came  to  our  Home;  was  saved,  exhib- 
iting by  an  earnest  and  truly  consistent  life  the  depth  of 
his  conversion,  being  made  instrumental  while  with  us 
in  the  salvation  of  many  who,  like  himself,  had  come  to 
utter  destitution  and  crime  through  drink.  He  is  now 
in  a  first-class  situation,  getting  ^300  a  year,  wife  and 
family  restored,  the  possessor  of  a  happy  home,  and  the 
love  of  God  shed  abroad  in  it. 

I  do  not  produce  these  samples,  which  are  but  a  few, 
taken  at  random  from  the  many,  for  the  purpose  of  boast- 
ing. The  power  which  has  wrought  these  miracles  is 
not  in  me  nor  in  my  Officers;  it  is  power  which  comes 
down  from  above.  But  I  think  I  may  fairly  point  to 
these  cases,  in  which  our  instrumentality  has  been 
blessed  to  the  plucking  of  these  brands  from  the  burning, 
as  affording  some  justification  for  the  plea  to  be  enabled 
to  go  on  with  this  work  on  a  much  more  extended 
scale.  If  any  ether  organization,  religious  or  secular, 
can  show  similar  trophies  as  the  result  of  such  limited 
operations  as  ours  have  hitherto  been  among  the  criminal 
population,  I  am  willing  to  give  place  to  them.  All 
that  I  want  is  to  have  the  work  done. 

Section     IV.— EFFECTUAL     DELIVERANCE    FOR 
THE  DRUNKARD 

The  number,  misery,    and   hopeless    condition    of    the 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  225 

slaves  of  strong  drink,  of  both  sexes,  have  been  already 
dealt  with  at  considerable  length. 

We  have  seen  that  there  are  in  Great  Britain  one 
million  of  men  and  women,  or  thereabouts,  completely 
under  the  domination  of  this  cruel  appetite.  The  utter 
helplessness  of  Society  to  deal  with  the  drunkard  has 
been  proved  again  and  again,  and  confessed  on  all  hands 
b}^  those  who  have  had  experience  on  the  subject.  As 
we  have  before  said,  the  general  feeling  of  all  those  who 
have  tried  their  hands  at  this  kind  of  business  is  one  of 
despair.  They  think  the  present  race  of  drunkards  must 
be  left  to  perish;  that  every  species  of  effort  having 
proved  vain,  the  energies  expended  in  the  endeavor  to 
rescue  the  parents  will  be  laid  out  to  greater  advantages 
upon  the  children. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  all  this.  Our  own 
efforts  have  been  successful  in  a  very  remarkable  degree. 
Some  of  the  bravest,  most  devoted,  and  successful  work- 
ers in  our  ranks  are  men  and  women  who  were  once  the 
most  abject  slaves  of  the  intoxicating  cup.  Instances  of 
this  have  been  given  already.  We  might  multiply  them 
by  thousands.  Still,  when  compared  with  the  ghastly 
array  which  the  drunken  army  presents  to-day,  those 
rescued  are  comparatively  few.  The  great  reason  for 
this  is  the  simple  fact  that  the  vast  majority  of  those 
addicted  to  the  cup  are  its  veritable  slaves.  No  amount 
of  reasoning,  or  earthly  or  religious  considerations,  can 
have  any  effect  upon  a  man  who  is  so  completely  under 
the  mastery  of  this  passion  that  he  cannot  break  away 
from  it,  although  he  sees  the  most  terrible  consequences 
staring  him  in  the  face. 

The  drunkard  promises  and  vows,  but  promises  and 
vows  in  vain.  Occasionally  he  will  put  forth  frantic 
efforts  to  deliver  himself,  but  only  to  fall  again  in  the 
presence  of  the  opportunity.     The  insatiable  crave  con- 

^5 


226  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

trols  him.     He  cannot  get    away    from    it.      It    compels 
him  to  drink,  whether  he  will  or  not,  and,  unless  delivered 
by  an  Almighty  hand,  he  will  drink  himself  into  a  drunk 
ard's  grave  and  a  drunkard's  hell. 

Our  annals  teem  with  successful  rescues  effected  from 
the  ranks  of  the  drunken  army.  The  following  will  not 
only  be  examples  of  this,  but  will  tend  to  illustrate  the 
strength  and  madness  of  the  passion  which  masters  the 
slave  to  strong  drink: 

Barbara. — She  had  sunk  about  as  low  as  any  woman 
could  when  we  found  her.  From  the  age  of  eighteen, 
when  her  parents  had  forced  her  to  throw  over  her  sailor 
sweetheart  and  marry  a  man  with  "good  prospects,"  she 
had  been  going  steadily  down. 

She  did  not  love  her  husband,  and  soon  sought  com- 
fort from  the  little  public-house  only  a  few  steps  from 
her  own  door.  Quarrels  in  her  home  quickly  gave  place 
to  fighting,  angry  curses,  and  oaths,  and  soon  her  life 
became  one  of  the  most  wretched  in  the  place.  Her 
husband  made  no  pretense  of  caring  for  her,  and  when 
she  was  ill  and  unable  to  earn  money  by  selling  fish  in 
the  streets,  he  would  gooff  for  a  few  months,  leaving  her 
to  keep  the  house  and  support  herself  and  babies  as  best 
she  could.  Out  of  her  twenty  years  of  married  life,  ten 
were  spent  in  these  on-and-off  separations.  And  so  she 
got  to  live  for  only  one  thing — drink.  It  was  life  to  her; 
and  the  mad  craving  grew  to  be  irresistible.  The 
woman  who  looked  after  her  at  the  birth  of  her  child 
refused  to  fetch  her  whisky,  so  when  she  had  done  all 
she  could  and  left  the  mother  to  rest,  Barbara  crept  out 
of  bed  and  crawled  slowly  down  the  stairs  over  the  way 
to  the  tap-room,  where  she  sat  drinking  with  the  baby, 
not  yet  an  hour  old,  in  her  arms.  So  things  went  on, 
until  her  life  got  so  unbearable  that  she  determined  to 
have  done  with  it.  Taking  her  two  eldest  children  with 
her,  she  went  down  to  the  bay,  and  deliberately  threw 
them  both  into  the  water,  jumping  in  herself  after  them. 
"Oh,  mither,  mither,  dinna  droon  me!"  wailed  her  little 
three-year-old  Sarah,  but  she  was  determined  and  held 
them  under  the  water,  till,  seeing  a  boat  put  out  to  the 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  227 

rescue,  she  knew  that  she  was  discovered.  Too  late  to 
do  it  now,  she  thought,  and,  holding  both  children,  swam 
quickly  back  to  the  shore.  A  made-up  story  about  hav- 
ing fallen  into  the  water  satisfied  the  boatman,  and 
Barbara  returned  home  dripping  and  baffled.  But  little 
Sarah  did  not  recover  from  the  shock,  and  after  a  few 
weeks  her  short  life  ended,  and  she  was  laid  in  the 
Cemetery. 

Yet  another  time,  goaded  to  desperation,  she  tried  to 
take  her  life  by  hanging  herself,  but  a  neighbor  came  in 
and  cut  her  down  unconscious,  but  still  living.  She 
became  a  terror  to  all  the  neighborhood,  and  her  name 
was  the  by-word  for  daring  and  desperate  actions.  But 
our  Open-Air  Meetings  attracted  her,  she  came  to  the 
Barracks,  got  saved,  and  was  delivered  from  her  love  of 
drink  and  sin. 

From  being  a  dread  her  home  became  a  sort  of  house 
of  refuge  in  the  little  low  street  where  she  lived;  other 
wives  as  unhappy  as  herself  would  come  in  for  advice 
and  help.  Anyone  knew  that  Barbie  was  changed,  and 
loved  to  do  all  she  could  for  her  neighbors.  A  few 
months  ago  she  came  up  to  the  Captain's  in  great  dis- 
tress over  a  woman  who  lived  just  opposite.  She  had 
been  cruelly  kicked  and  cursed  by  her  husband,  who  had 
finally  bolted  the  door  against  her,  and  she  had  turned 
to  Barbie  as  the  only  hope.  And  of  course  Barbie  took 
her  in,  with  her  rough-and-ready  kindness  got  her  to  bed, 
kept  out  the  other  women  who  crowded  round  to  sympa- 
thize and  declaim  against  the  husband's  brutality,  was 
both  nurse  and  doctor  for  the  poor  woman  till  her  child 
was  born  and  laid  in  the  mother's  arms.  And  then,  to 
Barbie's  distress,  she  could  do  no  more,  for  the  woman, 
not  daring  to  be  absent  longer,  got  up  as  best  she  could, 
and  crawled  on  hands  and  knees  down  the  little  steep 
steps,  across  the  street,  and  back  to  her  own  door. 
"But,  Barbie! "  exclaimed  the  Captain,  horrified,  "you 
should  have  nursed  her,  and  kept  her  until  she  was 
strong  enough."  But  Barbie  answered  by  reminding  the 
Captain  of  "John's"  fearful  temper,  and  how  it  might 
cost  the  woman  her  life  to  be  absent  from  her  home 
more  than  a  couple  of  hours. 

The  second  is  the  case  of— 


228  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAIs'D 

Maggie. — She  had  a  home,  but  seldom  was  sober 
enough  to  reach  it  at  nights.  She  would  fall  down  on 
the  door-steps  until  found  by  some  passer-by  or  a  police- 
man. 

In  one  of  her  mad  freaks  a  boon  companion  happened 
to  offend  her.  He  was  a  little  hunchback,  and  a  fellow- 
drunkard;  but  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  Maggie 
seized  him  and  pushed  him  head-foremost  down  the  old- 
fashioned  wide  sewer  of  the  Scotch  town.  Had  not  some- 
one seen  his  heels  kicking  out  and  rescued  him,  he 
would  surely  have  been  suffocated. 

One  winter's  night  Maggie  had  been  drinking  heavily, 
fighting,  too,  as  usual,  and  she  staggered  only  as  far,  on 
her  way  home,  as  the  narrow  chain-pier.  Here  she 
stumbled  and  fell,  and  lay  along  on  the  snow,  the  blood 
oozing  from  her  cuts,  and  her  hair  spread  out  in  a  tan- 
gled mass. 

At  5  in  the  morning,  some  factory  girls,  crossing  the 
bridge  to  their  work,  came  upon  her,  lying  stiff  and 
stark  amidst  the  snow  and  darkness. 

To  rouse  her  from  her  drunken  sleep  was  hard,  but  to 
raise  her  from  the  ground  was  still  harder.  The  matted 
hair  and  blood  had  frozen  fast  to  the  earth,  and  Maggie 
was  a  prisoner.  After  trying  to  free  her  in  different 
ways,  and  receiving  as  a  reward  volleys  of  abuse  and 
bad  language,  one  of  the  girls  ran  for  a  kettle  of  boiling 
water,  and  by  pouring  it  all  around  her,  they  succeeded 
by  degrees  in  melting  her  on  to  her  feet  again! 

But  she  came  to  our  Barracks,  and  got  soundly  con- 
verted, and  the  Captain  was  rewarded  for  nights  and 
days  of  toil  by  seeing  her  a  saved  and  sober  woman. 

All  went  right  till  a  friend  asked  her  to  his  house,  to 
drink  his  health  and  that  of  his  newly  married  wife. 

"I  wouldn't  ask  you  to  take  anything  strong, "  he  said. 
"Drink  to  me  with  this  lemonade." 

And  Maggie,  nothing  suspecting,  drank,  and  as  she 
drank  tasted  in  the  glass  her  old  enemy,   whisky! 

The  man  laughed  at  her  dismay,  but  a  friend  rushed 
off  to  tell  the  Captain. 

"I  may  be  in  time,  she  has  not  really  gone  back;" 
and  the  Captain  ran  to  the  house,  tying  her  bonnet- 
Strings  as  she  ran. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  229 

"It's  no  good — keep  awa' — I  don't  want  to  see 'er,  Cap- 
tain," wailed  Maggie;  "let  me  have  some  more — oh,  I'm 
on  fire  inside." 

But  the  Captain  was  firm,  and  taking  her  to  her  home, 
she  locked  herself  in  with  the  woman,  and  sat  with  the 
key  in  her  pocket,  while  Maggie,  half  mad  with 
craving,  paced  the  floor  like  a  caged  animal,  threatening 
and  entreating  by  terms. 

"Never  while  I  live,"  was  all  the  answer  she  could 
get;  so  she  turned  to  the  door,  and  busied  herself  there 
a  moment  or  two.  A  clinking  noise.  The  Captain 
started  up — to  see  the  door  open  and  Maggie  rush 
through  it!  Accustomed  to  stealing  and  all  its  "dodges, " 
she  had  taken  the  lock  off  the  door,  and  was  away  to  the 
nearest  public-house. 

Down  the  stairs.  Captain  after  her,  into  the  gin  pal- 
ace; but  before  the  astonished  publican  could  give  her 
the  drink  she  was  clamoring  for,  the  "bonnet"  was  by  her 
side.  "If  you  dare  to  serve  her,  I'll  break  the  glass  before 
it  reaches  her  lips.  She  shall  not  have  any!  "  and  so 
Maggie  was  coaxed  away,  and  shielded  till  the  passion 
was  over,  and  she  was  herself  once  more. 

But  the  man  who  gave  her  the  whisky  durst  not  leave 
his  house  for  weeks.  The  roughs  got  to  know  of  the 
trap  he  had  laid  for  her,  and  would  have  lynched  him 
could  they  have  got  hold  of  him. 

The  third  is  the  case  of  Rose: 

Rose  was  ruined,  deserted,  and  left  to  the  streets 
when  only  a  girl  of  thirteen,  by  a  once  well-to-do  man, 
who  is  now,  we  believe,  closing  his  days  in  a  work- 
house in  the  North  of  England. 

Fatherless,  motherless,  and  you  might  almost  say  friend- 
less, Rose  trod  the  broad  way  to  destruction,  with  all  its 
misery  and  shame,  for  twelve  long  years.  Her  wild,  pas- 
sionate nature,  writhing  under  the  wrong  suffered,  sought 
forgetfulness  in  the  intoxicating  cup,  and  she  soon  be- 
came a  notorious  drunkard.  Seventy-four  times  during 
her  career  she  was  dragged  before  the  magistrates,  and 
seventy-four  times,  with  one  exception,  she  was  pun- 
ished, but  the  seventy-fourth  time  she  was  as  far  off  ref- 
ormation as  ever.      The  one  exception    happened    on  the 


230  IN  DARKES  f  ENGLAND 

Queen' s  Jubilee  Day.  On  seeing  her  well-known  face  again 
before  him,  the  magistrate  inquired,  "How  many  times 
has  this  woman  been  here  before?  "  The  Police  Superintend- 
ent answered,  "Fifty  times."  The  magistrate  remarked, 
in  somewhat  grim  humor,  "Then  this  is  her  Jubilee," 
and,  moved  by  the  coincidence,  he  let  her  go  free.  So 
Rose  spent  her  Jubilee  out  of  prison. 

It  is  a  wonder  that  the  dreadful,  drunken,  reckless, 
dissipated  life  she  lived  did  not  hurry  her  to  an  early 
grave;  it  did  affect  her  reason,  and  for  three  weeks  she 
was  locked  up  in  Lancaster  Lunatic  Asylum,  having 
really  gone  mad  through  drink  and  sin. 

In  evidence  of  her  reckless  nature,  it  is  said  that  after 
her  second  imprisonment  she  vowed  she  would  never 
again  walk  to  the  police  station;  consequently,  when  in 
her  wild  orgies  the  police  found  it  necessary  to  arrest 
her,  they  had  to  get  her  to  the  police  station  as  best  they 
could,  sometimes  by  requisitioning  a  wheelbarrow  or  a 
cart,  or  the  use  of  a  stretcher,  and  sometimes  they  had 
to  carry  her  right  out.  On  one  occasion,  toward  the 
close  of  her  career,  when  driven  to  the  last-named  method, 
four  policemen  were  carrying  her  to  the  station,  and  she 
was  extra  violent,  screaming,  plunging,  and  biting,  when, 
either  by  accident  or  design,  one  of  the  policemen  let  go 
of  her  head,  and  it  came  in  contact  with  the  curbstone, 
causing  the  blood  to  pour  forth  in  a  stream.  As  soon 
as  they  placed  her  in  the  cell  the  poor  creature  caught 
the  blood  in  her  hands,  and  literally  washed  her  face 
with  it.  On  the  following  morning  she  presented  a  pit- 
iable sight,  and  before  taking  her  into  the  court  the  po- 
lice wanted  to  wash  her,  but  she  declared  she  would 
draw  any  man's  blood  who  attempted  to  put  a  finger 
upon  her;  they  had  spilt  her  blood,  and  she  would  carry 
it  into  the  court  as  a  witness  against  them:  On  coming 
out  of  jail  for  the  last  time,  she  met  with  a  few  Salva- 
tionists beating  the  drum  and  singing  "Oh!  the  Lamb, 
the  bleeding  Lamb;  He  was  found  worthy."  Rose, 
struck  with  the  song,  and  impressed  with  the  very  faces 
of  the  people,  followed  them,  saying  to  herself,  "I  never 
before  heard  anything  like  that,  or  seen  such  happy  look- 
ing people. "  She  came  into  the  Barracks;  her  heart  was 
broken;  she  found  her  way  to    the    Penitent    Form^  an4 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  231 

Christ,  with  His  own  precious  blood,  washed  her  sins 
away.  She  arose  from  her  knees  and  said  to  the  Cap- 
tain,   "It  is  all  right  now." 

Three  months  after  her  conversion  a  great  meeting 
was  held  in  the  largest  hall  in  the  town,  where  she  was 
known  to  almost  every  inhabitant.  There  were  about 
three  thousand  people  present.  Rose  was  called  upon  to 
give  her  testimony  to  the  power  of  God  to  save.  A 
more  enthusiastic  wave  of  sympathy  never  greeted  any 
speaker  than  that  which  met  her  from  that  crowd,  every 
one  of  whom  was  familiar  with  her  past  history.  After 
a  few  broken  words,  in  which  she  spoke  of  the  wonderful 
change  that  had  taken  place,  a  cousin,  who,  like  herself, 
had  lived  a  notoriously  evil  life,  came  to  the  Cross. 

Rose    is    now   War  Cry  sergeant.      She    goes   into  the 
brothels  and  gin  palaces  and  other  haunts  of    vice,   from 
which  she  was  rescued,  and  sells  more    papers    than  any 
other  Soldier. 

The  Superintendent  of  Police,  soon  after  her  conver- 
sion, told  the  Captain  of  the  Corps  that  in  rescuing  Rose 
a  more  wonderful  v/ork  had  been  done  than  he  had  seen 
in  all  the  years  gone  by. 

S.  was  a  native  of  Lancashire,  the  son  of  poor  but 
pious  parents.  He  was  saved  when  "sixteen  years  of 
age.  He  was  first  an  Evangelist,  then  a  City  Mission- 
ary for  five  or  six  years,  and  afterwards  a  Baptist  Min- 
ister. He  then  fell  under  the  influence  of  drink,  re- 
signed, and  became  a  commercial  traveler,  but  lost  his 
berth  through  drink.  He  was  then  an  insurance  agent, 
and  rose  to  be  superintendent,  but  was  again  dismissed 
through  drink.  During  his  drunken  career  he  had  delir- 
ium tremens  four  times,  attempted  suicide  three  times, 
sold  up  six  homes,  was  in  the  workhouse  with  his  wife 
and  family  three  times.  His  last  contrivance  forgetting 
drink  was  to  preach  mock  sermons  and  offer  mock 
prayers  in  the  tap-rooms.  After  one  of  these  blasphe- 
mous performances  in  a  public-house,  on  the  words,  "Are 
you  Saved?"  he  was  challenged  to  go  to  the  Salvation 
Barracks.  He  went,  and  the  Captain,  who  knew  him 
well,  at  once  made  for  him,  to  plead  for  his  soul,  but 
S.  knocked  him  down,  and  rushed  back  to  the  public- 
house  for   more  drink.     He  was^  however^  so    nioved   by 


233  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

what  he  had  heard  that  he  was  unable  to  raise  the  liq- 
uor to  his  mouth,  although  he  made  three  attempts.  He 
again  returned  to  the  meeting,  and  again  quitted  it  for  the 
public-house.  He  could  not  rest,  and  for  the  third  time 
he  returned  to  the  Barracks.  As  he  entered  the  last  time 
the  Soldiers  were  singing: 

Depth  of  mercy,  can  there  be 
Mercy  still  reserved  for  me? 
Can  my  God  his  wrath  forbear? 
Me,  the  Chief  of  Sinners,  spare? 

This  song  impressed  him  still  further;  he  wept,  and 
remained  in  the  Barracks  under  deep  conviction  until 
midnight.  He  was  drunk  all  the  next  day,  vainly  try- 
ing to  drown  his  convictions.  The  Captain  visited  him 
at  night,  but  was  quickly  thrust  out  of  the  house.  He 
was  there  again  next  morning,  and  prayed  and  talked 
with  S.  for  nearly  two  hours.  Poor  S.  was  in  despair. 
He  persisted  that  there  was  no  mercy  for  him.  After  a 
long  struggle,  however,  hope  sprung  up,  he  fell  upon  his 
knees,  confessed  his  sins,  and  obtained  forgiveness. 

When  this  happened,  his  furniture  consisted  of  a 
soap-box  for  a  table,  and  starch  boxes  for  chairs.  His 
wife,  himself,  and  three  children  had  not  slept  in  a  bed 
for  three  years.  He  has  now  a  happy  family,  a  comfort- 
able home,  and  has  been  the  means  of  leading  num- 
bers of  other  slaves  of  sin  to  the  Saviour,  and  to  a  truly 
happy  life. 

Similar  cases,  describing  the  deliverance  of  drunkards 
from  the  bondage  of  strong  drink,  could  be  produced  in- 
definitely. There  are  Officers  marching  in  our  ranks  to- 
day, who  were  once  gripped  by  this  fiendish  fascination, 
who  have  had  their  fetters  broken,  and  are  now  free  men 
in  the  Army.  Still  the  mighty  torrent  of  Alcohol,  fed 
by  ten  thousand  manufactories,  sweeps  on,  bearing  with 
it,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying,  the  foulest,  bloodiest 
tide  that  ever  flowed  from  earth  to  eternity.  The  Church 
of  the  living  God  ought  not — and  to  say  nothing  about 
religion,  the  people  who  have  any  humanity  ought  not — to 
rest  without  doing    something    desperate    to  rescue  this 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  233 

quarter  of  a  million  who  are  in  the  eddying  maelstrom. 
We  purpose,  therefore,  the  taking  away  of  the  people 
from  the  temptation  which  they  cannot  resist.  We 
would  to  God  that  the  temptation  could  be  taken  away 
from  them,  that  every  house  licensed  to  send  forth  the 
black  streams  of  bitter  death  were  closed,  and  closed  for- 
ever. But  this  will  not  be,  we  fear,  for  the  present  at 
least. 

While  in  one  case  drunkenness  may  be  resolved  into  a 
habit,  in  another  it  must  be  accounted  a  disease.  What 
is  wanted  in  the  one  case,  therefore,  is  some  m.ethod  of 
removing  the  man  out  of  the  sphere  of  the  temptation, 
and  in  the  other  for  treating  the  passion  as  a  disease,  as 
we  should  any  other  physical  affection,  bringing  to  bear 
upon  it  every  agency,  hygienic  and  otherwise,  calculated 
to  effect  a  cure. 

The  Dalrymple  Homes,  in  which,  on  the  order  of  a 
magistrate  and  by  their  own  consent.  Inebriates  can  be 
confined  for  a  time,  have  been  a  partial  success  in  deal- 
ing with  this  class  in  both  these  respects;  but  they  are 
admittedly  too  expensive  to  be  of  any  service  to  the 
poor.  It  could  never  be  hoped  that  working-people  of 
themselves,  or  with  the  assistance  of  their  friends,  would 
be  able  to  pay  two  pounds  a  week  for  the  privilege  of  being 
removed  away  from  the  licensed  temptations  to  drink 
which  surround  them  at  every  step.  Moreover,  could 
they  obtain  admission,  they  would  feel  themselves  any- 
thing but  at  ease  amongst  the  class  who  avail  themselves 
of  these  institutions.  We  propose  to  establish  Homes 
which  will  contemplate  the  deliverance,  not  of  ones  and 
twos,  but  of  multitudes,  and  which  will  be  accessible  to 
the  poor,  or  to  persons  of  any  class  choosing  to  use  them. 
This  is  our  national  vice,  and  it  demands  nothing  short 
of  a  national  remedy — any  way,  one  of  proportions  large 
enough  to  be  counted  national. 


334  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

1.  To  begin  with,  there  will  be  City  Homes,  into 
which  a  man  can  be  taken,  watched  over,  kept  out  of  the 
way  of  temptation,  and  if  possible  delivered  from  the 
power  of  this  dreadful  habit. 

In  some  cases  persons  would  be  taken  in  who  are  en- 
gaged in  business  in  the  City  in  the  day,  being  accom- 
panied by  an  attendant  to  and  from  the  Home.  In  this 
case,  of  course,  adequate  remuneration  for  this  extra 
care  would  be  required. 

2.  Country  Homes,  which  we  shall  conduct  on  the 
Dalrymple  principle;  that  is,  taking  persons  for  com- 
pulsory confinement,  they  binding  themselves  by  a  bond 
confirmed  by  a  magistrate  that  they  would  remain  for  a 
certain  period. 

The  general  regulations  for  both  establishments  would 
be  something  as  follows: 

(i.)  There  would  be  only  one  class  in  each  establish- 
ment. If  it  was  found  that  the  rich  and  the  poor  did  not 
work  comfortably  together,  separate  institutions  must  be 
provided. 

(2.)  All  would  alike  have  to  engage  in  some  remu- 
nerative form  of  employment.  Outdoor  work  would  be 
preferred,  but  indoor  employment  would  be  arranged  for 
those  for  whom  it  was  most  suitable,  and  in  such  weather 
and  at  such  times  of  the  year  when  garden  work  was  im- 
practicable. 

(3.)  A  charge  of  los.  per  week  would  be  made.  This 
could  be  remitted    when  there  was  no   ability  to   pay  it. 

The  usefulness  of  such  Homes  is  too  evident  to  need 
any  discussion.  There  is  one  class  of  unfortunate  creat- 
ures who  must  be  objects  of  pity  to  all  who  have  any 
knowledge  of  their  existence,  and  that  is,  those  men  and 
women  who  are  being  continually  dragged  before  the 
magistrates,  of  whom  we  are  constantly  reading  in  the 
police  reports,  whose  lives  are  spent  in  and  out  of  prison, 
at  an  enormous  cost  to  the  country,  and  without  any 
benefit  to  themselves. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  235 

We  should  then  be  able  to  deal  with  this  class.  It 
would  be  possible  for  a  magistrate,  instead  of  sentencing 
the  poor  wrecks  of  humanity  to  the  sixty-fourth  and  one 
hundred  and  twentieth  term  of  imprisonment,  to  send 
them  to  this  Institution,  by  simply  remanding  them  to 
come  up  for  sentence  when  called  for.  How  much 
cheaper  such  an  arrangement  would  be  for  the  country  I 

Section  V.— A  NEW    WAY  OF  ESCAPE  FOR  LOST 

WOMEN 

THE   RESCUE    HOMES 

Perhaps  there  is  no  evil  more  destructive  of  the  best 
interests  of  Society,  or  confessedly  more  difficult  to  deal 
with  remedially,  than  that  which  is  known  as  the  Social 
Evil.  We  have  already  seen  something  of  the  extent  to 
which  this  terrible  scourge  has  grown,  and  the  alarming 
manner  in  which  it  affects  our  modern  civilization. 

We  have  already  made  an  attempt  at  grappling  with 
this  evil,  having  about  thirteen  Homes  in  Great  Britain, 
accommodating  307  girls  under  the  charge  of  132  Officers, 
together  with  seventeen  Homes  abroad,  open  for  the 
same  purpose.  The  whole,  although  a  small  affair  com- 
pared with  the  vastness  of  the  necessity,  nevertheless 
constitutes  perhaps  the  largest  and  most  efficient  effort 
of  its  character  in  the  world. 

It  is  difficult  to  estimate  the  results  that  have  been 
already  realized.  By  our  varied  operations,  apart  from 
these  Homes,  probably  hundreds,  if  not  thousands,  have 
been  delivered  from  lives  of  shame  and  misery.  We 
have  no  exact  return  of  the  number  who  have  gone 
through  the  Homes  abroad,  but  in  connection  with  the 
work  in  this  country,  about  3,000  have  been  rescued, 
and  are  living  lives    of  virtue. 

This  success  has  not  only  been  gratifying  on  account 


236  IN   DARKEST    ENGLAND 

of  the  blessing  it  has  brought  these  young  women,  the 
gladness  it  has  introduced  to  the  homes  to  which  they 
have  been  restored,  and  the  benefit  it  has  bestowed  upon 
Society,  but  because  it  has  assured  us  that  much  greater 
results  of  the  same  character  may  be  realized  by  opera- 
tions conducted  on  a  larger  scale,  and  under  more  favor- 
able circumstances. 

With  this  view  we  propose  to  remodel  and  greatly  in- 
crease the  number  of  our  Homes,  both  in  London  and 
the  provinces,  establishing  one  in  every  great  centre  of 
this  infamous  traffic,  and  to  make  them  very  largely 
Receiving  Houses,  where  the  girls  will  be  initiated  into 
the  system  of  reformation,  tested  as  to  the  reality  of  their 
desires  for  deliverance,  and  started  forward  on  the 
highway  of  truth,  virtue,  and  religion. 

From  these  Homes  large  numbers,  as  at  present,  would 
be  restored  to  their  friends  and  relatives,  while  some 
would  be  detained  in  training  for  domestic  service,  and 
others  passed  on  to  the  Farm  Colony. 

On  the  Farm  they  would  be  engaged  in  various  occu- 
pations. In  the  Factory,  at  Bookbinding  and  Weaving; 
in  the  Garden  and  Glasshouses,  amongst  fruit  and  flow- 
ers; in  the  Dairy,  making  butter;  in  all  cases  going 
through  a  course  of  Housework  which  will  fit  them  for 
domestic  service. 

At  every  stage  the  same  process  of  moral  and  religious 
training,  on  which  we  specially  rely,  will  be  carried  for- 
ward. 

There  would  probably  be  a  considerable  amount  of 
inter-marriage  amongst  the  Colonists,  and  in  this  way  a 
number  of  these  girls  would  be  absorbed  into  Society. 

A  large  number  would  be  sent  abroad  as  domestic  serv- 
ants. In  Canada,  the  girls  are  taken  out  of  the  Rescue 
Homes  as  servants,  with  no  other  reference  than  is 
gained  by  a  few  weeks'  residence   there,  and  are  paid  as 


AND  THE   WAY  OUT  2^7 

much  as  ^3  a  month  wages.  The  scarcity  of  domestic 
servants  in  the  Australian  Colonies,  Western  States  of 
America,  Africa,  and  elsewhere  is  well  known.  And  we 
have  no  doubt  that  on  all  hands  our  girls  with  twelve 
months'  character  will  be  welcomed,  the  question  of 
outfit  and  passage  money  being  easily  arranged  for  by  the 
persons  requiring  their  services  advancing  the  amount, 
with  an  understanding  that  it  is  to  be  deducted  out  of 
their  first  earnings. 

Then  we  have  the  Over-Sea  Colony,  which  will  re- 
quire the  service- of  a  large  number.  Very  few  families 
will  go  out  who^will  not  be  very  glad  to  take  a  young 
woman  with  them,  not  as  a  menial  servant,  but  as  a 
companion  and  friend. 

By  this  method  we  should  be  able  to  carry  out  Rescue 
work  on  a  much  larger  scale.  At  present  two  difficul- 
ties very  largely  block  our  way.  One  is  the  costliness  of 
the  work.  The  expense  of  rescuing  a  girl  on  the  present 
plan  cannot  be  much  less  than  ;^7;  that  is,  if  we  include 
the  cost  of  those  with  whom  we  fail,  and  on  whom  the 
money  is  largely  thrown  away.  Certainly  ;^7  is  not  a 
very  large  sum  for  the  measure  of  benefit  bestowed  upon 
the  girl  by  bringing  her  off  the  streets,  and  that  which 
is  bestowed  on  Society  by  removing  her  from  her  evil 
course;  still,  when  the  work  runs  into  thousands  of 
individuals,  the  amount  required  becomes  considerable. 
On  the  plan  proposed  we  calculate  that  from  the  date 
of  their  reaching  the  Farm  Colony  they  will  earn  nearly 
all  that  is  required  for  their  support. 

The  next  difficulty  which  hinders  our  expansion  in  this 
department  is  the  want  of  suitable  and  permanent  situa- 
tions. Although  we  have  been  marvelously  successful  so 
far,  having  at  this  hour  probably  1,200  girls  in  domes- 
tic service  alone,  still  the  difficulty  in  this  respect  is 
great.     Families    are  naturally    shy    at    receiving    these 


338  IN   DARKEST  ENGLAND 

poor  unfortunates  when  they  can  secure  the  help  they 
need  combined  with  unblemished  character;  and  we  can- 
not blame  them. 

Then,  again,  it  can  easily  be  understood  that  the 
monotony  of  domestic  service  in  this  country  is  not  alto- 
gether congenial  to  the  tastes  of  many  of  these  girls, 
who  have  been  accustomed  to  a  life  of  excitement  and 
freedom.  This  can  be  easily  understood.  To  be  shut 
up  seven  days  a  week,  with  little  or  no  intercourse, 
either  with  friends  or  with  the  outside  world,  beyond 
that  which  comes  of  the  weekly  Church  service  or  "night 
out,"  with  nowhere  to  go,  as  many  of  th«m  are  tied  off 
from  the  Salvation  Army  Meetings,  becomes  very  monot- 
onous, and  in  hours  of  depression  it  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  if  a  few  break  down  in  their  resolutions,  and 
fall  back  into  their  old  ways. 

On  the  plan  we  propose  there  is  something  to  cheer 
these  girls  forward.  Life  on  the  Farm  will  be  attract- 
ive. From  there  they  can  go  to  a  new  country  and  be- 
gin the  world  afresh,  with  the  possibility  of  being  mar- 
ried and  having  a  little  home  of  their  own  some  day. 
With  such  prospects,  we  think,  they  will  be  much  more 
likely  to  fight  their  way  through  seasons  of  darkness  and 
temptation  than  as  at  present. 

This  plan  will  also  make  the  task  of  rescuing  the  girls 
much  more  agreeable  to  the  Officers  engaged  in  it.  They 
will  have  this  future  to  dwell  upon  as  an  encouragement 
to  persevere  with  the  girls,  and  will  be  spared  one  ele- 
ment at  least  in  the  regret  they  experience,  when  a  girl 
falls  back  into  old  habits — namely,  that  she  earned  the 
principal  part  of  the  money  that  has  been  expended  upon 
her. 

That  girls  can  be  rescued  and  blessedly  saved  even 
now,  despite  all  their  surroundings,  we  have  many  re- 
markable proofs.     Of  these  take  one  or  two  as  examples: 


And  the  way  out  28u 

J.  W.  was  brought  by  our  Officers  from  a  neighbor- 
hood which  has,  by  reason  of  the  atrocities  perpetrated 
in  it,  obtained  an  unenviable  renown,  even  among  similar 
districts  of  equally  bad  character. 

She  was  only  nineteen;  a  country  girl.  She  had  be- 
gun the  struggle  for  life  early  as  a  worker  in  a  large 
laundry,  and  at  thirteen  years  of  age  was  led  away  by 
an  inhuman  brute.  The  first  false  step  taken,  her  course 
on  the  downward  road  was  rapid,  and  growing  restless 
and  anxious  for  more  scope  than  that  afforded,  in  a  country 
town,  she  came  up  to  London. 

For  some  time  she  lived  the  life  of  extravagance  and 
show  known  to  many  of  this  class  for  a  short  time — 
having  plenty  of  money,  fine  clothes,  and  luxurious  sur- 
roundings— until  the  terrible  disease  seized  her  poor 
body,  and  she  soon  found  herself  deserted,  homeless  and 
friendless,  an  outcast  of  Society. 

When  we  found  her  she  was  hard  and  impenitent,  diffi- 
cult to  reach  even  with  the  hand  of  love;  but  love  won,  and 
since  that  time  she  has  been  in  two  or  three  situations, 
a  consistent  Soldier  of  an  Army  corps,  and  a  champion 
War  Cry  seller. 

A  TICKET-OF-LEAVE   WOMAN 

A.  B.  was  the  child  of  respectable  working-people — Ro- 
man Catholics — but  was  early  left  an  orphan.  She  fell 
in  with  bad  companions,  and  became  addicted  to  drink, 
going  from  bad  to  worse  until  drunkenness,  robbery,  and 
harlotry  brought  her  to  the  lowest  depths.  She  passed 
seven  years  in  prison,  and  after  the  last  offense  was  dis- 
charged with  seven  years'  police  supervision.  Failing  to 
report  herself,  she  was  brought  before  the  bench. 

The  magistrate  inquired  whether  she  had  ever  had  a 
chance  in  a  Home  of  any  kind.  "She  is  too  old,  no  one 
will  take  her,"  was  the  reply,  but  a  Detective  present, 
knowing  a  little  about  the  Salvation  Army,  stepped  for- 
ward and  explained  to  the  magistrate  that  he  did  not 
think  the  Salvation  Army  refused  any  who  applied. 
She  was  formally  handed  over  to  us  in  a  deplorable  con- 
dition, her  clothing  the  scantiest  and  dirtiest.  For  over 
three  years  she  has  given  evidence  of  a  genuine  reforma- 
tion, during  which  time  she  has  industriously  earned 
her  own  living. 


240  IK    DARKEST    ENGLAND 

A   WILD   WOMAN 

In  visiting  a  slum  in  a  town  in  the  North  of  England, 
our  Officers  entered  a  hole,  unfit  to  be  called  a  human 
habitation — more  like  the  den  of  some  wild  animal — 
almost  the  only  furniture  of  which  was  a  filthy  iron  bed- 
stead, a  wooden  box  to  serve  for  table  and  chair,  while 
an  old  tin  did  duty  as  a  dust-bin. 

The  inhabitant  of  this  wretched  den  was  a  poor 
woman,  who  fled  into  the  darkest  corner  of  the  place  as 
our  Officer  entered.  This  poor  wretch  was  the  victim  of 
a  brutal  man,  who  never  allowed  her  to  venture  outside 
the  door,  keeping  her  alive  by  the  scantiest  allowance  of 
food.  Her  only  clothing  consisted  of  a  sack  tied  round  her 
body.  Her  feet  were  bare,  her  hair  matted  and  foul, 
presenting  on  the  whole  such  an  object  as  one  could 
scarcely  imagine  living  in  a  civilized  country. 

She  had  left  a  respectable  home,  forsaken  her  husband 
and  family,  and  sunk  so  low  that  the  man  who  then 
claimed  her  boasted  to  the  Officer  that  he  had  bettered 
her  condition  by  taking  her  off  the  streets. 

We  took  the  poor  creature  away,  washed  and  clothed 
her;  and,  changed  in  heart  and  life,  she  is  one  more 
added  to  the  number  of  those  who  rise  up  to  bless  the 
Salvation  Army  workers. 

Section  VI.— A  PREVENTIVE  HOME  FOR  UN- 
FALLEN  GIRLS  WHEN  IN  DANGER 

There  is  a  story  told  likely  enough  to  be  true  about  a 
young  girl  who  applied  one  evening  for  admission  to 
some  home  established  for  the  purpose  of  rescuing  fallen 
women.  The  matron  naturally  inquired  whether  she  had 
forfeited  her  virtue;  the  girl  replied  in  the  negative. 
She  had  been  kept  from  that  infamy,  but  she  was  poor 
and  friendless,  and  wanted  somewhere  to  lay  her  head 
until  she  could  secure  work  and  obtain  a  home.  The 
matron  must  have  pitied  her,  but  she  could  not  help  her, 
as  she  did  not  belong  to  the  class  for  whose  benefit  the 
Institution    was    intended.     The  girl    pleaded,  but    the 


AND  THE   WAY   OUr  241 

matron  could  not  alter  the  rule,  and  dare  not  break  it, 
they  were  so  pressed  to  find  room  for  their  own  poor  un- 
fortunates, and  she  could  not  receive  her.  The  poor  girl 
left  the  door  reluctantly,  but  returned  in  a  very  short 
time,  and  said,  "I  am  fallen  now,  will  you    take  me  in?" 

I  am  somewhat  slow  to  credit  this  incident;  anyway  it 
is  true  in  spirit,  and  illustrates  the  fact  that  while 
there  are  homes  to  which  any  poor,  ruined,  degraded 
harlot  can  run  for  shelter,  there  is  only  here  and  there 
a  corner  to  which  a  poor,  friendless,  moneyless,  home- 
less, but  unfallen  girl  can  fly  for  shelter  from  the  storm 
which  bids  fair  to  sweep  her  away,  whether  she  will  or 
no,  into  the  deadly  vortex  of  ruin  which  gapes  beneath 
her. 

In  London  and  all  our  large  towns  there  must  be  a 
considerable  number  of  poor  girls  who,  from  various 
causes,  are  suddenly  plunged  into  this  forlorn  condi- 
tion; a  quarrel  with  the  mistress  and  sudden  discharge, 
a  long  bout  of  disease  and  dismissal  penniless  from  the 
hospital,  a  robbery  of  a  purse,  having  to  wait  for  a 
situation  until  the  last  penny  is  spent,  and  many  other 
causes  will  leave  a  girl  an  almost  hopeless  prey  to  the 
lynx-eyed  villains  who  are  ever  watching  to  take  advan- 
tage of  innocence  when  in  danger.  Then,  again,  what 
a  number  there  must  be  in  a  great  city  like  London 
who  are  ever  faced  with  the  alternative  of  being  turned 
out  of  doors  if  they  refuse  to  submit  themselves  to  the 
infamous  overtures  of  those  around  them.  I  understand 
that  the  Society  for  the  Protection  of  Children  prose- 
cuted last  year  a  fabulous  number  of  fathers  for  unnatural 
sins  with  their  children.  If  so  many  were  brought  to 
justice,  how  many  were  there  of  whom  the  world  never 
heard  in  any  shape  or  form?  We  have  only  to  imagine 
how  many  a  poor  girl  is  faced  with  the  terrible  alterna- 
tive of  being  driven  literally  into  the  streets  by  employ- 
16 


242  IN   DARKEST   ENGLAND 

ers  or  relatives  or  others  in  whose  power  she  is  unfortu- 
nately placed. 

Now,  we  want  a  real  home  for  such — a  house  to  which 
any  girl  can  fly  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  and  be 
taken  in,  cared  for,  shielded  from  the  enemy,  and  helped 
into  circumstances  of  safety. 

The  Refuge  we  propose  will  be  very  much  on  the  same 
principle  as  the  Homes  for  the  Destitute  already 
described.  We  should  accept  any  girls,  say  from  four- 
teen years  of  age,  who  were  without  visible  means  of 
support,  but  who  were  willing  to  work,  and  to  conform 
to  discipline.  There  would  be  various  forms  of  labor 
provided,  such  as  laundry  work,  sewing,  knitting  by  ma- 
chines, etc.,  etc.  Every  beneficial  influence  within  our  pow- 
er would  be  brought  to  bear  on  the  rectification  and  forma- 
tion of  character.  Continued  efforts  would  be  made  to 
secure  situations  according  to  the  adaptation  of  the  girls, 
to  restore  wanderers  to  their  homes,  and  otherwise  pro- 
vide for  all.  From  this,  as  with  the  other  Homes, 
there  will  be  a  way  made  to  the  Farm  and  to  the 
Colony  over  the  sea.  The  institutions  would  be  multi- 
plied as  we  had  means  and  found  them  to  be  necessary, 
and  made  self-supporting  as  far  as  possible. 

Section  VH.— INQUIRY  OFFICE  FOR   LOST 
PEOPLE 

Perhaps  nothing  more  vividly  suggests  the  varied 
forms  of  broken-hearted  misery  in  the  great  City  than 
the  statement  that  18,000  people  are  lost  in  it  every 
year,  of  whom  9,000  are  never  heard  of  anymore,  anyway 
in  this  world.  What  is  true  about  London  is,  we 
suppose,  true  in  about  the  same  proportion  of  the 
rest  of  the  country.  Husbands,  sons,  daughters,  and 
mothers  are  continually  disappearing,  and  leaving  no 
trace  behind. 


AND  THE   WAY   OUT  243 

In  such  cases,  where  the  relations  are  of  some  impor- 
tance in  the  world,  they  may  interest  the  police  authori- 
ties sufficiently  to  make  some  inquiries  in  this  country, 
which,  however,  are  not  often  successful;  or  where  they 
can  afford  to  spend  large  sums  of  money,  they  can  fall 
back  upon  the  private  detective,  who  will  continue  these 
inquiries,  not  only  at  home,  but  abroad. 

But  where  the  relations  of  the  missing  individual  are 
in  humble  circumstances,  they  are  absolutely  powerless, 
in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  to  effectually  prosecute  any 
search  at  all  that  is  likely  to  be  successful. 

Take,  for  instance,  a  cottager  in  a  village,  whose 
daughter  leaves  for  service  in  a  big  town  or  city. 
Shortly  afterwards  a  letter  arrives  informing  her  parents 
of  the  satisfactory  character  of  her  place.  The  mistress 
is  kind,  the  work  easy,  and  she  likes  her  fellow-servants. 
She  is  going  to  chapel  or  church,  and  the  family  are 
pleased.  Letters  continue  to  arrive  of  the  same  purport, 
but  at  length  they  suddenly  cease.  Full  of  concern, 
the  mother  writes  to  know  the  reason,  but  no  answer 
comes  back,  and  after  a  time  the  letters  are  returned 
with  "Gone,  no  address,"  written  on  the  envelope.  The 
mother  writes  to  the  mistress,  or  the  father  journeys  to 
the  city,  but  no  further  information  can  be  obtained 
beyond  the  fact  that  "the  girl  has  conducted  herself  some- 
what mysteriously  of  late;  had  ceased  to  be  as  careful  at 
her  work;  had  been  noticed  to  be  keeping  company  with 
some  young  man;  had  given  notice,  and  disappeared  alto- 
gether. " 

Now,  what  can  these  poor  people  do?  They  apply  to 
the  police,  but  they  can  do  nothing.  Perhaps  they  ask 
the  clergyman  of  the  parish,  who  is  equally  helpless,  and 
there  is  nothing  for  them  but  for  the  father  to  hang  his 
head    and    the    mother  to  cry  herself  to  sleep — to  long, 


244  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

and  wait,  and  pray  for  information  that  perhaps  never 
comes,  and  to  fear  the  worst. 

Now,  our  Inquiry  Department  supplies  a  remedy  for 
this  state  of  things.  In  such  a  case  application  would 
simply  have  to  be  made  to  the  nearest  Salvation  Army 
Officer — probably  in  her  own  village,  anyway  in  the 
nearest  town — who  would  instruct  the  parents  to  write  to 
the  Chief  OfHce  in  London,  sending  portraits  and  all 
particulars.  Inquiries  would  at  once  be  set  on  foot,  which 
would  very  possibly  end  in  the  restoration  of  the  girl. 

The  achievements  of  this  Department,  which  has  only 
been  in  operation  for  a  short  time,  and  that  on  a  limited 
scale  as  a  branch  of  Rescue  Work,  have  been  marvelous. 
No  more  romantic  stories  can  be  found  in  the  pages  of 
our  most  imaginative  writers  than  those  it  records.  We 
give  three  or  four  illustrative  cases  of  recent  date: 

A  LOST  HUSBAND 

Inquiry. — Mrs.  S.,  of  New  Town,  Leeds,  wrote  to  say 
that  Robert  R.  left  England  in  July,  1889,  for  Canada,  to 
improve  his  position.  He  left  a  wife  and  four  little 
children  behind,  and  on  leaving  said  that  if  he  were  suc- 
cessful out  there  he  should  send  for  them,  but  if  not  he 
should  return. 

As  he  was  unsuccessful,  he  left  Montreal  in  the  Domin- 
ion Liner  "Oregon,"  on  October  30th,  but  except  receiv- 
ing a  card  from  him  ere  he  started,  the  wife  and  friends 
had  heard  no  more  of  him  from  that  day  till  the  date 
they  wrote  us. 

They  had  written  to  the  "Dominion"  Company,  who 
replied  that  "he  landed  at  Liverpool  all  right;"  so, 
thinking  he  had  disappeared  upon  his  arrival,  they  put 
the  matter  in  the  hands  of  the  Liverpool  Police,  who, 
after  having  the  case  in  hand  for  several  weeks,  made  the 
usual  report — "Cannot  be  traced." 

Result. — We  at  once  commenced  looking  for  some  pas- 
senger who  had  come  over  by  the  same  steamer,  and  after 


AND   THE  WAY   OUT  245 

the  lapse  of  a  little  time  we  succeeded  in  getting  hold 
of  one. 

In  our  first  interview  with  him  we  learned  that  Robert 
R.  did  not  land  at  Liverpool,  but  when  suffering  from 
depression,  threw  himself  overboard  three  days  after  leav- 
ing America,  and  was  drowned.  We  further  elicited  that 
upon  his  death  the  sailors  rifled  his  clothes  and  boxes, 
and  partitioned  them. 

We  wrote  the  Company  reporting  this,  and  they  prom- 
ised to  make  inquiries  and  amends;  but,  as  too  often  hap- 
pens, upon  making  report  of  the  same  to  the  family,  they 
took  the  matter  into  their  own  hands,  dealt  with  the 
Company  direct,  and  in  all  probability  thereby  lost  a 
good  sum  in  compensation  which  we  should  probably 
have  obtained  for  them. 

A    LOST    WIFE 

Inquiry. — F.  J.  L.  asked  us  to  seek  for  his  wife,  who  left 
him  on  November  4th,  1888.  He  feared  she  had  gone 
to  live  an  immoral  life;  gave  us  two  addresses  at  which 
she  might  possibly  be  heard  of,  and  a  description. 
They  had  three  children. 

Result. — Inquiries  at  the  addresses  given  elicited  no 
information,  but  from  observation  in  the  neighborhood 
the  woman's  whereabouts  was  discovered. 

After  some  difficulty  our  OfBcer  obtained  an  interview 
with  the  woman,  who  was  greatly  astonished  at  our  hav- 
ing discovered  her.  She  was  dealt  with  faithfully  and 
firmly;  the  plain  truth  of  God  set  before  her,  and  was 
covered  with  shame  and  remorse,  and  promised  to  return. 

We  communicated  with  Mr.  L.  A  few  days  after  he 
wrote  that  he  had  been  telegraphed  for,  had  forgiven  his 
wife,   and  that  they  were  reunited. 

Soon  afterwards  she  wrote  expressing  her  deep  grati- 
tude to  Mrs.  Bramwell  Booth  for  the  trouble  taken  in 
her  case. 

A    LOST    CHILD 

Inquiry. — Alice  P.  was  stolen  away  from  home  by 
Gypsies  ten  years  ago,  and  now  longs  to  find  her  parents 


246  IN   DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Id  be  restored  to  them.      She  believes  her  home  to  be  in 
Yorkshire. 

The  Police  had  this  case  in  hand  for  some  time,  but 
failed  entirely. 

Result. — With  these  particulars  we  advertised  in  the 
"War  Cry."  Captain  Green,  seeing  the  advertisement, 
wrote,  April  3d,  from  3,  C.  S.,  M.  H.,  that  her  Lieuten- 
ant knew  a  family  of  the  name  advertised  for,  living  at 
Gomersal,   Leeds. 

We,  on  the  4th,  wrote  to  this  address  for  confirmation. 

April  6th,  we  heard  from  Mr.  P.,  that  this  lass  is 
his  child,  and  he  writes  full  of  gratitude  and  joy,  say- 
ing he  will  send  money  for  her  to  go  home.  We,  mean- 
while, get  from  the  Police,  who  had  long  sought  this 
girl,  a  full  description  and  photo,  which  we  sent  to  Cap- 
tain Cutmore,  and  on  April  9th  she  wrote  us  to  the  effect 
that  the  girl  exactly  answered  the  description.  We  got 
from  the  parents  15s  for  the  fare,  and  Alice  was  once  more 
restored  to  her  parents. 

Praise  God. 

A   LOST  DAUGHTER 

Inquiry. — E.  W. ;  age  17.  Application  from  this  girl's 
mother  and  brother,  who  had  lost  all  trace  of  her  since 
July,  1885,  when  she  left  for  Canada.  Letters  had  been 
once  or  twice  received,  dated  from  Montreal,  but  they 
stopped. 

A  photo,  full  description,  and  handwriting  were  sup- 
plied. 

Result. — We  discovered  that  some  kind  Church  people 
here  had  helped  E.  W.  to  emigrate,  but  they  had  no  in- 
formation as  to  her  movements  after  landing. 

Full  particulars,  with  photo,  were  sent  to  our  Officers 
in  Canada.  The  girl  was  not  found  in  Montreal.  The 
information  was  then  sent  to  Officers  in  other  towns  in 
that  part  of  the  Colony. 

The  inquiry  was  continued  through  some  months;  and, 
finally,  through  our  Major  of  Division,  the  girl  was  re- 
ported to  us  as  having  been  recognized  in  one  of  our 
Barracks  and  identified.  When  suddenly  called  by  her 
own  name,  she  nearly  fainted  with  agitation. 


AND  THE  WAY    OUT  247 

She  was  in  a  condition  of  terrible  poverty  and  shame, 
but  at  once  consented,  on  hearing  of  her  mother's  inquir- 
ies, to  go  into  one  of  our  Canadian  Resdue  Homes.  She 
is  now  doing  well. 

Her  mother's  joy  may  be  imagined. 

A   LOST   SERVANT 

Inquiry. — Mrs.  M.,  Clevedon,  one  of  Harriett  P.'s  old 
mistresses,  wrote  us,  in  deep  concern,  about  this  girl. 
She  said  she  was  a  good  servant,  but  was  ruined  by  the 
young  man  who  courted  her,  and  had  since  had  three  chil- 
dren. Occasionally  she  would  have  a  few  bright  and 
happy  weeks,  but  would  again  lapse  into  the  "vile  path." 

Mrs.  M.  tells  us  that  Harriett  had  good  parents,  who 
are  dead,  but  she  still  has  a  respectable  brother  in  Hamp- 
shire. Th^  last  she  heard  of  her  was  that  some  weeks  ago 
she  was  staying  at  a  Girl's  Shelter  at  Bristol,  but  had 
since  left,  and  nothing  more  had  been  heard  of  her. 

The  inquirer  requested  us  to  find  her,  and  in  much 
faith  added:  "I  believe  you  are  the  only  people  who,  if 
successful  in  tracing  her,  can  rescue  and  do  her  a  per- 
manent good." 

Result.  —We  at  once  set  inquiries  on  foot,  and  in  the 
space  of  a  few  days  found  that  she  had  started  from 
Bristol  on  the  road  for  Bath.  Following  her  up,  we 
found  that  at  a  little  place  called  Bridlington,  on  the 
way  to  Bath,  she  had  met  a  man,  of  whom  she  inquired 
her  way.  He  hearing  a  bit  of  her  story,  after  taking  her 
to  a  public  house,  prevailed  upon  her  to  go  home  and  live 
with  him,  as  he  had  lost  his  wife. 

It  was  at  this  stage  that  we  came  upon  the  scene,  and 
having  dealt  with  them  both  upon  the  matter,  got  her  to 
consent  to  come  away  if  the  man  would  not  marry  her, 
giving  him  two  days  to  make  up  his  mind. 

The  two  days'  respite  having  expired,  and  he  being 
unwilling  to  undertake  matrimony,  we  brought  her  away, 
and  sent  her  to  one  of  our  Homes,  where  she  is  enjoy- 
ing peace  and  penitence. 

When  we  informed  the  mistress  and  brother  of  the  suc- 
cess, they  were  greatly  rejoiced  and  overwhelmed  us  with 
thanks. 


248  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 


A  LOST  HUSBAND 


In  a  seaside  home  last  Christmas  there  was  a  sorrow- 
ing wife,  who  mourned  over  the  basest  desertion  of  her 
husband.  Wandering  from  place  to  place,  drinking,  he 
had  left  her  to  struggle  alone  with  four  little  ones  de- 
pendent upon  her  exertions. 

Knowing  her  distress,  the  Captain  of  the  Corps  wrote 
begging  us  to  advertise  for  the  man  in  the  Cry.  We  did 
this,  but  for  some  time  heard  nothing  of  the  result. 

Several  weeks  later  a  Salvationist  entered  a  beer-house, 
where  a  group  of  men  were  drinking,  and  began  to  dis- 
tribute War  Crys  amongst  them,  speaking  here  and  there 
upon  the  eternity  which  faced  everyone. 

At  the  counter  stood  a  man  with  a  pint  pot  in  hand, 
who  took  one  of  the  papers  passed  to  him,  and  glancing 
carelessly  down  its  columns  caught  sight  of  his  own 
name,  and  was  so  startled  that  the  pot  fell  from  his 
grasp  to  the  floor.  "Come  home,"  the  paragraph  ran, 
"and  all  will  be  forgiven." 

His  sin  faced  him;  the  thought  of  a  broken-hearted 
wife  and  starving  children  conquered  him  completely,  and 
there  and  then  he  left  the  public-house,  and  started  to 
walk  home — a  distance  of  many  miles — arriving  there 
about  midnight  the  same  night,  after  an  absence  of 
eleven  months. 

The  letter  from  his  wife  telling  the  good  news  of  his 
return,  spoke  also  of  his  determination  byGod^s  help  to 
be  a  different  man,  and  they  are  both  attendants  at  the 
Salvation  Army  Barracks. 

A   SEDUCER  COMPELLED   TO   PAY 

Amongst  the  letters  that  came  to  the  Inquiry  Office 
one  morning  was  one  from  a  girl  who  asked  us  to  help  her 
to  trace  the  father  of  her  child,  who  had  for  some  time 
ceased  to  pay  anything  towards  its  support.  The  case 
had  been  brought  into  the  Police  Court,  and  judgment 
given  in  her  favor,  but  the  guilty  one  had  hidden,  and 
his  father  refused  to  reveal  his  whereabouts. 

We  called  upon  the  elder  man  and  laid  the  matter  be- 
fore him,  but  failed  to  prevail  upon  him  either  to  pay 
bis    son's    liabilities    or  to    put  us  into  communication 


AND  THE   WAY   OUT  249 

with  him.  The  answers  to  an  advertisement  in  the  War 
Ci-y,  however,  had  brought  the  required  information  as 
to  his  son's  whereabouts,  and  the  same  morning  that  our 
Inquiry  Officer  communicated  with  the  police,  and  served 
a  summons  for  the  overdue  monej',  the  young  man  had 
also  received  a  letter  from  his  father  advising  him  to 
leave  the  country  at  once.  He  had  given  notice  to  his 
employers;  and  the  ^i6  salary  he  received,  with  some 
help  his  father  had  sent  him  toward  the  journey,  he  was 
compelled  to  hand  over  to  the  mother  of  his  child. 

FOUND    IN    THE     BUSH 

A  year  or  two  ago  a  respectable-looking  Dutch  girl 
might  have  been  seen  making  her  way  quickly  and  stealth- 
ily across  a  stretch  of  long  rank  grass  towards  the 
shelter  of  some  woods  on  the  banks  of  a  distant  river. 
Behind  her  lay  the  South  African  town  from  which  she 
had  come,  betrayed,  disgraced,  ejected  from  her  home 
with  words  of  bitter  scorn,  having  no  longer  a  friend  in 
the  wide  world  who  would  hold  out  to  her  a  hand  of 
help.  What  could  there  be  better  for  her  than  to  plunge 
into  that  river  yonder,  and  end  this  life — no  matter 
what  should  come  after  the  plunge?  But  Greetah  feared 
the  "future,"  and  turned  aside  to  spend  the  night  in 
darkness,  wretched  and  alone. 


Seven  years  had  passed.  An  English  traveler  making 
his  way  through  Southern  Africa  halted  for  the  Sabbath 
at  a  little  village  on  his  route.  A  ramble  through  the 
woods  brought  him  unexpectedly  in  front  of  a  kraal,  at 
the  door  of  which  squatted  an  old  Hottentot,  with  a  fair 
white-faced  child  playing  on  the  ground  near  by.  Glad 
to  accept  the  proffered  shelter  of  the  hut  from  the  burn- 
ing sun,  the  traveler  entered,  and  was  greatly  aston- 
ished to  find  within,  a  young  white  girl,  evidentl}'  the 
mother  of  the  frolicsome  child.  Full  of  pity  for  the 
strange  pair,  and  especially  for  the  girl,  who  wore  an 
air  of  refinement  little  to  be  expected  in  this  out-of-the- 
world  spot,  he  sat  down  on  the  earthen  floor,  and  told 
them  of  the  wonderful  Salvation  of  God.  This  was 
Greetah,  and  the  Englishman  would  have    given  a  great 


250  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

deal  if  he  could  have  rescued  her  from  this  miserable 
lot.  But  this  was  impossible,  and  with  reluctance  he 
bid  her    farwell. 


It  was  an  English  home.  By  a  glowing  fire  one  night 
a  man  sat  alone,  and  in  his  imaginings  there  came  up 
the  vision  of  the  girl  he  had  met  in  the  Hottentot's 
kraal,  and  wondering  whether  any  way  of  rescue  was 
possible.  Then  he  remembered  reading,  since  his  re- 
turn, the  following  paragraph  in  the    War   Cry: 

"to  the  distressed: 

"The  Salvation  Army  invite  parents,  relations,  and 
friends  in  any  part  of  the  world  interested  in  an};  wom- 
an or  girl  who  is  known,  or  feared  to  be,  living  in  im- 
morality, or  is  in  danger  of  coming  under  the  control 
of  immoral  persons,  to  write,  stating  full  particulars, 
with  names,  dates,  and  address  of  all  concerned,  and,  if 
possible,  a  photograph  of  the  person  in  whom  the  inter- 
est is  taken. 

"All  letters,  whether  from  these  persons  or  from  such 
women  or  girls  themselves,  will  be  regarded  as  strictly  confi- 
dential. They  may  be  written  in  any  language,  and 
should  be  addressed  to  Mrs.  Bramwell  Booth,  loi, 
Queen  Victoria  Street,  London,  E.  C. " 

"It  will  do  no  harm  to  try,  anyhow,"  exclaimed  he; 
"the  thing  haunts  me  as  it  is;"  and  without  further  delay 
he  penned  an  account  of  his  African  adventure,  as  full 
as  possible.  The  next  African  mail  carried  instructions 
to  the  Officer  in  Command  of  our  South  African  work. 


Shortly  after,  one  of  our  Salvation  Riders  was  explor- 
ing the  bush,  and  after  some  difficulty  the  kraal  was  dis- 
covered— the  girl  was  rescued  and  raved.  The  Hotten- 
tot was  converted  afterwards,  and  both  are  now 
Salvation  Soldiers. 

Apart  from  the  independent  agencies  employed  to 
prosecute  this  class  of  inquiries,  which  it  is  proposed 
to  very    largely    increase,  the   Army  possesses  in  itsel 


And  the  way  out  25i 

peculiar  advantages  for  this  kind  of  investigation.  The 
mode  of  operation  is  as  fellows: 

There  is  a  Head  Centre,  under  the  direction  of  a  capa- 
ble Officer  and  assistants,  to  which  particulars  of  lost 
husbands,  sons,  daughters,  and  wives,  as  the  case  may 
be,  are  forwarded.  These  are  advertised,  except  when 
deemed  inadvisable,  in  the  English  "War  Cry,"  with 
its  300,000  circulation,  and  from  it  copied  into  the 
twenty-three  other  "War  Crys"  published  in  different 
parts  of  the  world.  Specially  prepared  information  in 
each  case  is  sent  to  the  local  Officers  of  the  Army  when 
that  is  thought  wise,  or  Special  Inquiry  Officers  trained 
to  their  work  are  immediately  set  to  work  to  follow  up 
any  clue  which  has  been  given  by  inquiring  relations  or 
friends. 

Every  one  of  its  10,000  Officers,  nay,  almost  every 
Soldier  in  its  ranks,  scattered,  as  they  are,  through 
every  quarter  of  the  globe,  may  be  regarded  as  an 
Agent. 

A  small  charge  for  inquiries  is  made,  and,  where  per- 
sons are  able,  all  the  costs  of  the  investigation  will  be 
defrayed  by  them. 

Section  VIIL— REFUGES  FOR  THE  CHILDREN  OF 
THE  STREETS 

For  the  waifs  and  strays  of  the  streets  of  London 
much  commiseration  is  expressed,  and  far  more  pity  is 
deserved  that  is  bestowed.  We  have  no  direct  purpose 
of  entering  on  a  crusade  on  their  behalf,  apart  from  our 
attempt  at  changing  the  hearts  and  lives  and  improving 
the  circumstances  of  their  parents. 

Our  main  hope  for  these  wild,  youthful  outcasts  lies 
in  this  direction.  If  we  can  reach  and  benefit  their 
guardians,  morally  and  materially,  we  shall  take  the 
most  effectual  road  to  benefit  the  children  themselves. 


252  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Still,  a  number  oi  tnem  will  unavoidably  be  forced 
upon  us;  and  we  shall  be  quite  prepared  to  accept  the 
responsibility  of  dealing  with  them,  calculating  that 
our  organization  will  enable  us  to  do  so,  not  only  with 
facility  and  efficiency,  but  with  trifling  cost  to  the 
public. 

To  begin  with.  Children's  Creches,  or  Children's  Day 
Homes,  would  be  established  in  the  centres  of  every 
poor  population,  where  for  a  small  charge  babies  and 
young  children  can  be  taken  care  of  in  the  day  while 
the  mothers  are  at  work,  instead  of  being  left  to  the 
dangers  of  the  thoroughfares  or  the  almost  greater  peril 
of  being  burnt  to  death  in  their  own  miserable  homes. 

By  this  plan  we  shall  not  only  be  able  to  benefit  the 
poor  children,  if  in  no  other  direction  than  that  of  soap 
and  water  and  a  little  wholesome  food,  but  exercise  some 
humanizing  influence  upon  the  mothers  themselves. 

On  the  Farm  Colony,  we  should  be  able  to  deal  with 
the  infants  from  the  Unions  and  other  quarters.  Our 
Cottage  mothers,  with  two  or  three  children  of  their 
own,  would  readily  take  in  an  extra  one  on  the  usual 
terms  of  boarding  out  children,  and  nothing  would  be 
more  simple  or  easy  for  us  than  to  set  apart  some  trust- 
worthy experienced  dame  to  make  a  constant  inspection 
as  to  whether  the  children  placed  out  were  enjoying  the 
necessary  conditions  of  health  and  general  well-being. 
Here  would  be  a  Baby  Farm  carried  on  with  the  most 
favorable  surroundings. 

Section  IX.— INDUSTRIAL  SCHOOLS 

I  also  propose,  at  the  earliest  opportunity,  to  give  the 
subject  of  the  industrial  training  of  boys  a  fair  trial; 
and,  if  successful^  follow  it  on  with  a  similar  one  for 
girls.  I  am  nearly  satisfied  in  my  own  mind  that  the 
children  of  the  streets  taken,  say    at    eight  years  of  age, 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  258 

and  kept  till,  say  twenty-one,  would,  by  judicious  man- 
agement and  the  utilization  of  their  strength  and  capac- 
ity, amply  supply  all  their  own  wants,  and  would,  I  think, 
be  likely  to  turn  out  thoroughly  good  and  capable 
members  of  the  community. 

Apart  from  the  mere  benevolent  aspect  of  the  ques- 
tion, the  present  system  of  teaching  is,  to  my  mind, 
unnatural,  and  shamefully  wasteful  of  the  energies  of 
the  children.  Fully  one-half  the  time  that  boys  and 
girls  are  compelled  to  sit  in  school  is  spent  to  little  or 
no  purpose — nay,  it    is  worse    than  wasted.     The  ds 

of  the  children  are  only  capable  of  useful  application 
for  so  many  consecutive  minutes,  and  hence  the  rational 
method  must  be  to  apportion  the  time  of  the  children; 
say,  half  the  morning's  work  to  be  given  to  their  books, 
and  the  other  half  to  some  industrial  employment;  the 
garden  would  be  most  natural  and  healthy  in  fair 
weather,  while  the  workshop  should  be  fallen  back  upon 
when  unfavorable. 

By  this  method  health  would  be  promoted,  school 
would  be  loved,  the  cost  of  education  would  be  cheap- 
ened, and  the  natural  bent  of  the  child's  capacities 
would  be  discovered  and  could  be  cultivated.  Instead  of 
coming  out  of  school,  or  going  away  from  apprentice- 
ship, with  the  most  precious  part  of  life  forever  gone 
so  far  as  learning  is  concerned,  chained  to  some  pursuit 
for  which  there  is  no  predilection,  and  which  premises 
nothing  higher  than  mediocrity  if  not  failure — the  work 
for  which  the  mind  was  peculiarly  adapted  and  for 
which,  therefore,  it  would  have  a  natural  capacit}^, 
would  not  only  have  been  discovered,  but  the  bent  of  the 
inclination  cultivated,  and  the  life's  v/ork  chosen 
accordingly. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  attempt  any  reform  of  our  School 
system   on    this   model.     But  I  do  think    that  I  may  be 


254  IN    DARKEST    ENGLAND 

allowed  to  test  the  theory  by  its  practical  working  in  ^n 
Industrial  School  in  connection  with  the  Farm  Colony. 
I  should  begin  probably  with  children  selected  for  their 
goodness  and  capacity,  with  a  view  to  imparting  a  supe- 
rior education,  thus  fitting  them  for  the  position  of  Officers 
in  all  parts  of  the  world,  with  the  special  object  of  rais- 
ing up  a  body  of  men  thoroughly  trained  and  educated, 
among  other  things,  to  carry  out  all  the  branches  of  the 
Social  work  that  are  set  forth  in  this  book,  and  it  may 
be  to  instruct  other  nations  in  the  same. 

Section  X.— ASYLUMS  FOR  MORAL  LUNATICS 

There  will  remain,  after  all  has  been  said  and  done, 
one  problem  that  has  yet  to  be  faced.  You  may  min- 
imize the  difficulty  every  way,  and  it  is  your  duty  to  do 
so,  but  no  amount  of  hopefulness  can  make  us  blink  the 
fact  that  when  all  has  been  done  and  every  chance  has 
been  offered,  when  you  have  forgiven  your  brother  not  only 
seven  times,  but  seventy  times  seven,  when  you  have 
fished  him  up  from  the  mire  and  put  him  on  firm  ground 
only  to  see  him  relapse  and  again  relapse  until  you  have 
no  strength  left  to  pull  him  out  once  more,  there  will 
still  remain  a  residuum  of  men  and  women  who  have, 
whether  from  heredity  or  custom,  or  hopeless  demorali- 
zation, become  reprobates.  After  a  certain  time,  some 
men  of  science  hold  that  persistence  in  habits  tends  to 
convert  a  man  from  a  being  with  freedom  of  action  and 
will  into  a  mere  automaton.  There  are  some  cases  within 
our  knowledge  which  seem  to  confirm  the  somewhat 
dreadful  verdict  by  which  a  man  appears  to  be  a  lost 
soul  on  this  side  of  the  grave. 

There  are  men  so  incorrigibly  lazy  that  no  inducement 
that  you  can  offer  will  tempt  them  to  work;  so  eaten 
up  by  vice  that   virtue  is  abhorrent   to  them,  and  so  in- 


AND  THE  WAY   OUT  255 

veterately  dishonest  that  theft  is  to  them  a  master  pas- 
sion. When  a  human  being  has  reached  that  stage,  there 
is  only  one  course  that  can  be  rationally  pursued.  Sor- 
rowfully, but  remorselessly,  it  must  be  recognized  that 
he  has  become  lunatic,  morally  demented,  incapable 
of  self-government,  and  that  upon  him,  therefore,  must 
be  passed  the  sentence  of  permanent  seclusion  from  a 
world  in  which  he  is  not  fit  to  be  at  large.  The  ulti- 
mate destiny  of  these  poor  wretches  should  be  a  penal 
settlement  where  they  could  be  confined  during  Her 
Majesty's  pleasure  as  are  the  criminal  lunatics  at 
Broadmoor.  It  is  a  crime  against  the  race  to  allow 
those  who  are  so  inveterately  depraved  the  freedom  to 
wander  abroad,  infect  their  fellows,  prey  upon  Society 
and  to  multiply  their  kind.  Whatever  else  Society 
may  do,  and  suffer  to  be  done,  this  thing  it  ought  not 
to  allow,  any  more  than  it  should  allow  the  free  per- 
ambulation of  a  mad  dog.  But  before  we  come  to  this 
I  would  have  every  possible  means  tried  to  effect  their 
reclamation.  Let  Justice  punish  them,  and  Mercy  put 
her  arms  around  them;  let  them  be  appealed  to  by  pen- 
alty and  by  reason,  and  by  every  influence,  human  and 
Divine,  that  can  possibly  be  brought  to  bear  upon  them. 
Then,  if  all  alike  failed,  their  ability  to  further  curse 
their  fellows  and  themselves  should  be  stayed. 

They  will  still  remain  objects  worthy  of  infieiite  com- 
passion. They  should  lead  as  human  a  life  as  is  pos- 
sible to  those  who  have  fallen  under  so  terrible  a  judg- 
ment. They  should  have  their  own  little  cottages  in 
their  own  little  gardens,  under  the  blue  sky,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, amid  the  green  fields.  I  would  deny  them  none  of 
the  advantages,  moral,  mental,  and  religious,  which 
might  minister  to  their  diseased  minds,  and  teiid  to  re- 
store them  to  a  better  state.  Not  until  the  breath  leaves 
their    bodies    should  we  cease  to  labor    and    wrestle  for 


250  IN   DARKEST   ENGLAND 

their  salvation.  But  when  they  have  reached  a  cer- 
tain point,  access  to  their  fellow-men  should  be  forbid- 
den. Between  them  and  the  wide  world  there  should  be 
reared  an  impassable  barrier,  which  once  passed  should 
be  recrossed  no  more  forever.  Such  a  course  must  be 
wiser  than  allowing  them  to  go  in  and  out  among  their 
fellows,  carrying  with  them  the  contagion  of  moral  lep- 
rosy, and  multiplying  a  progeny  doomed  before  its  birth 
to  inherit  the  vices  and  diseased  cravings  of  their  un- 
happy parents. 

To  these  proposals  three  leading  objections  will  prob- 
ably be  raised. 

7.  It  may  be  said  that  to  shut  out  men  and  women 
from  that  liberty  which  is  their  universal  birthright 
would  be  cruel. 

To  this  it  might  be  sufficient  to  reply  that  this  is 
already  done;  twenty  years'  immurement  is  a  very  com- 
mon sentence  passed  upon  wrong-doers,  and  in  some 
cases  the  law  goes  as  far  as  to  inflict  penal  servitude  for 
life.  But  we  say  further  that  it  would  be  far  more  merci- 
ful treatment  than  that  which  is  dealt  out  to  them  at 
present,  and  it  would  be  far  more  likely  to  secure  a 
pleasant  existence.  Knowing  their  fate,  they  would  soon 
become  resigned  to  it.  Habits  of  industry,  sobriety, 
and  kindness  with  them  would  create  a  restfulness  of 
spirit,  which  goes  far  on  in  the  direction  of  happiness, 
and  if  religion  were  added  it  would  make  that  happi- 
ness complete.  There  might  be  set  continually  before 
them  a  large  measure  of  freedom  and  more  frequent  in- 
tercourse with  the  world  in  the  shape  of  correspondence, 
newspapers,  and  even  occasional  interviews  with  rela- 
tives, as  rewards  for  well-doing.  And  in  sickness  and  old 
age  their  -latter  days  might  be  closed  in  comfort.  In  fact, 
so  far  as  this  class  of  people  are  concerned,  we  can  see 
that  they  would    be  far  better  circumstanced    for  happi- 


AND  THE   WAY   OUT  257 

ness  In  this  life  and  in  the  life  to  come  than  in  their 
present  liberty — if  a  life  spent  alternatively  in  drunken- 
ness, debauchery,  and  crime,  on  the  one  hand,  or  the 
prison  on  the  other,  can  be  called  liberty. 

2.  It  may  be  said  that  the  carrying  out  of  such  a  sug- 
gestion would  be  too  expensive. 

To  this  we  reply  that  it  would  have  to  be  very  costly 
to  exceed  the  expense  in  which  all  such  characters  involve 
the  nation  under  the  present  regulations  of  vice  and 
crime.  But  there  is  no  need  for  any  great  expense,  see- 
ing that  after  the  first  outlay  the  inmates  of  such  an 
institution,  if  it  were  fixed  upon  the  land,  would  readily 
earn  all  that  would  be  required  for  their  support. 

3.  But  it  may  be  said  that  this  is  impossible. 

It  would  certainly  be  impossible  other  than  as  a  State 
regulation.  But  it  would  surely  be  a  very  simple 
matter  to  enact  a  law  which  should  decree  that  after  an 
individual  had  suffered  a  certain  number  of  convictions 
for  crime,  drunkenness,  or  vagrancy,  he  should  forfeit 
his  freedom  to  roam  abroad  and  curse  his  fellows.  When 
I  include  vagrancy  in  this  list,  1  do  it  on  the  supposi- 
tion that  the  opportunity  and  ability  for  work  are  pres- 
ent. Otherwise  it  seems  to  me  most  heartless  to  punish 
a  hungry  man  who  begs  for  food  because  he  can  in  no 
other  way  obtain  it.  But  with  the  opportunity  and 
ability  for  work  I  would  count  the  solicitation  of  charity 
a  crime,  and  punish  it  as  such.  Anyway,  if  a  man  would 
not  work  of  his  own  free  will,  I  would  compel  him. 


17 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Assistance  in  General. 

There  are  many  who  are  not  lost,  who  need  help.  A 
little  assistance  given  to-day  will  perhaps  prevent  the 
need  of  having  to  save  them  to-morrow.  There  are  some, 
who,  after  they  have  been  rescued  will  still  need  a  friendly 
hand.  The  very  service  which  we  have  rendered  them  at 
starting  makes  it  obligatory  upon  us  to  finish  the  good 
work.  Hitherto  it  may  be  objected  that  the  Scheme  has 
dealt  almost  exclusively  with  those  who  are  more  or  less 
disreputable  and  desperate.  This  was  inevitable.  We 
obey  our  Divine  Master  and  seek  to  save  those  who  are 
lost.  But  because,  as  I  said  at  the  beginning,  urgency  is 
claimed  rightly  for  those  who  have  no  helper,  we  do  not, 
therefore,  forget  the  needs  and  the  aspirations  of  the 
decent  working  people  who  are  poor  indeed,  but  who  keep 
their  feet,  who  have  not  fallen,  and  who  help  themselves 
and  help  each  other.  They  constitute  the  bulk  of  the 
nation.  There  is  an  uppercrust  and  a  submerged  tenth. 
But  the  hardworking  poor  people,  who  earn  a  pound  a 
week  or  less,  constitute  in  every  land  the  majority  of  the 
population.  We  cannot  forget  them,  for  we  are  at  home 
with  them.  We  belong  to  them  and  many  thousands  of 
them  belong  to  us.  We  are  always  studying  how  to  help 
them,  and  we  think  this  can  be  done  in  many  ways,  some 
of  which  I  proceed  to  describe. 

268 


IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND  859 


Section  i. — Improved  Lodgings. 

The  necessity  for  a  superior  class  of  lodgings  for  the 
poor  men  rescued  at  our  Shelters  has  been  forcing  itself 
already  upon  our  notice,  and  demanding  attention.  One 
of  the  first  things  that  happens  when  a  man,  lifted  out  of 
the  gutter,  has  obtained  a  situation,  and  is  earning  a 
decent  livelihood,  is  for  him  to  want  some  better  accom- 
modation than  that  afforded  at  the  Shelters.  We  have 
some  hundreds  on  our  hands  now  who  can  afford  to  pay 
for  greater  comfort  and  seclusion.  These  are  continually 
saying  to  us  something  like  the  following ; 

'The  Shelters  are  all  very  well  when  a  man  is  down  in 
his  luck.  They  have  been  a  good  thing  for  us ;  in  fact, 
had  it  not  been  for  them,  we  would  still  have  been  with- 
out a  friend,  sleeping  on  the  embankment,  getting  our 
living  dishonestly,  or  not  getting  a  living  at  all.  We  have 
now  got  work,  and  want  a  bed  to  sleep  on,  and  a  room 
to  ourselves,  and  a  box,  or  something  where  we  can  stow 
away  our  bits  of  things.  Cannot  you  do  something  for 
us?"  We  have  replied  that  there  were  lodging-houses 
elsewhere,  which,  now  that  they  were  in  work,  they  could 
afford  to  pay  for,  where  they  would  obtain  the  comfort 
they  desired.  To  this  they  answer,  "that  is  all  very  well. 
We  know  there  are  these  places,  that  we  could  go  to 
them:  But  then,"  they  said,  "you  see,  here  in  the 
Shelters  are  our  inmates,  who  think  as  we  do.  And  there 
is  the  prayer,  and  the  meeting,  and  kind  influence  every 
night,  that  helps  to  keep  us  straight.  We  would  like  a 
better  place,  but  if  you  cannot  find  us  one,  we  would 
rather  stop  in  the  Shelter  and  sleep  on  the  floor,  as  we 
have  been  doing,  than  go  to  something  more  complete, 
get  into  bad  company,  and  so  fall  back  again  to  where  we 
were  before," 


260  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

But  this,  although  natural,  is  not  desirable ;  for,  if  the 
process  went  on,  in  course  of  time  the  whole  of  the  Shelter 
Depots  would  be  taken  up  by  persons  who  had  risen 
above  the  class  for  whom  they   were   originally   destined. 

I  propose,  therefore,  to  draft  those  who  get  on,  but 
wish  to  continue  in  connection  with  the  Army,  into  a 
superior  lodging-house,  a  sort  of 

POOR  man's  metropole, 
managed  on  the  same  principles,  but  with  better  accom- 
modation in  every  way,  which,  I  anticipate,  would  be 
self-supporting  from  the  first.  In  these  homes  there  would 
be  separated  dormitories,  good  sitting-rooms,  cooking  con- 
veniences, baths,  a  hall  for  meetings,  and  many  other 
comforts,  of  which  all  would  have  the  benefit  at  as  low  a 
figure  above  cost  price  as  will  not  only  pay  interest  on 
the  original  outlay,  but  secure  us  against  any  shrinkage 
of  capital. 

Something  superior  in  this  direction  will  also  be  required 
for  the  women,  having  begun  we  must  go  on.  Hitherto 
I  have  proposed  to  deal  only  with  single  men  and  single 
v/omen,  but  one  of  the  consequences  of  getting  hold 
of  these  men  very  soon  makes  itself  felt.  Your 
ragged,  hungry,  destitute  Out-of-Work  in  almost  every 
case  is  married.  When  he  comes  to  us  he  comes  as 
single  and  is  dealt  with  as  such,  but  after  you  rouse  in  him 
aspirations  for  better  things  he  remembers  the  wife  whom 
he  has  probably  enough  deserted,  or  left  from  sheer 
inability  to  provide  her  anything  to  eat.  As  soon  as  such 
a  man  finds  himself  "under  good  influence  and  fairly 
employed  his  first  thought  is  to  go  and  look  after  the 
"Missis."  There  is  very  little  reality  about  any  change  of 
heart  in  a  married  man  who  does  not  thus  turn  in  sympa- 
thy and  longing  towards  his  wife,  and  the  more  successful 
we  are  in  dealing  with  these  people  the  more  inevitable 
it  is  that  we  shall  be  confronted  with  married  couples  who 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  26,' 

in  turn  demand  that  we  should  provide  for  them  lodgings. 
This  we  propose  to  do  also  on  a  commercial  footing.  I 
see  greater  developments  in  this  direction,  one  of  which 
will  be  described  in  the  chapter  relating  to  Suburban 
Cottages.  -The  Model-lodging  House  for  Married  People 
is,  however,  one  of  those  things  that  must  be  provided  as 
an  adjunct  of  the  Food  and  Shelter  Depots. 

Section  2. — Model  Suburban  Villages. 

As  I  have  repeatedly  stated  already,  but  will  state  once 
more,  for  it  is  important  enough  to  bear  endless  repetition, 
one  of  the  first  steps  which  must  inevitably  be  taken  in 
the  reformation  of  this  class,  is  to  make  for  them  decent, 
healthy,  pleasant  homes,  or  help  them  to  make  them  for 
themselves,  which,  if  possible,  is  far  better.  I  do  not  regard 
the  institution  of  any  first,  second,  or  third-class  lodging- 
houses  as  affording  anything  but  palliatives  of  the  existing 
distress.  To  substitute  life  in  a  boarding-house  for  life 
in  the  streets  is,  no  doubt,  an  immense  advance,  but  it  is 
by  no  means  the  ultimatum.  Life  in  a  boarding-house  is 
better  than  the  worst,  but  it  is  far  from  being  the  best 
form  of  human  existence.  Hence,  the  object  I  constantly 
keep  in  view  is  how  to  pilot  those  persons  who  have  been 
set  on  their  feet  again  by  means  of  the  Food  and  Shelter 
Depots,  and  who  have  obtained  employment  in  the  City, 
into  the  possession  of  homes  of  their  own. 

Neither  can  I  regard  the  one,  or  at  most  two,  rooms  in 
which  the  large  majority  of  the  inhabitants  of  our  great 
cities  are  compelled  to  spend  their  days,  as  a  solution  of 
the  question.  The  over-crowding  which  fills  every  sepa- 
rate room  of  a  tenement  with  a  human  litter,  and  compels 
family  life  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  to  be  lived  within 
the  four  walls  of  a  single  apartment,  must  go  on  reproduc- 
ing in  endless  succession  all  the  terrible  evils  which  such 
a  state  of  things  must  inevitably  create. 


263  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Neithei*  can  I  be  satisfied  with  the  vast,  unsightly  piles 
of  barrack-like  buildings,  which  are  only  a  slight  advance 
upon  the  Union  Bastille — dubbed  Model  Industrial 
Dwellings — so  much  in  fashion  at  present,  as  being  a 
satisfactory  settlement  of  the  burning  question  of  the  hous- 
ing of  the  poor. 

As  a  contribution  to  this  question,  I  propose  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  series  of  Industrial  Settlements  or  Suburban 
Villages,  lying  out  in  the  country  within  a  reasonable 
distance  of  all  our  great  cities,  composed  of  cottages  of 
suitable  size  and  construction,  and  with  all  needful  com- 
fort and  accommodation  for  the  families  of  working-men, 
the  rent  of  which,  together  with  the  railway  fare,  and 
other  economic  conveniences,  should  be  within  the  reach 
of  a  family  of  moderate  income. 

This  proposal  lies  slightly  apart  from  the  scope  of  this 
book,  otherwise  I  should  be  disposed  to  elaborate  the 
p/oject  at  greater  length.  I  may  say,  however,  that  what 
I  here  propose  has  been  carefully  thought  out,  and  is  of 
a  perfectly  practical  character.  In  the  planning  of  it  I 
have  received  some  valuable  assistance  from  a  friend  who 
has  had  considerable  experience  in  the  building  trade,  and 
Jie  stakes  his  professional  reputation  on  its  feasibility. 
The  following,  however,  may  be  taken  as  a  rough  outline ; 

The  Village  should  not  be  more  than  twelve  miles  frorn 
town ,  should  be  in  a  dry  and  healthy  situation,  and  on  a 
line  of  railway.  It  is  not  absolutely  necessary  that  it 
should  be  near  a  station,  seeing  that  the  company  would 
for  their  own  interests,  immediately  erect  one. 

The  Cottages  should  be  built  of  the  best  material  and 
workmanship.  This  would  be  effected  most  satisfactorily 
by  securing  a  contract  for  the  labor  only,  the  projectors  of 
the  Scheme  purchasing  the  materials  and  supplying  them 
direct    from    the    manufacturers     to  the     builders.     The 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  263 

cottages  would  consist  of  three  or  four  rooms  with  a 
scullery,  and  out-building  in  the  garden.  The  cottages 
should  be  built  in  terraces,  each  having  a  good  garden 
attached. 

Arrangements  should  be  made  for  the  erection  of  from 
one  thousand  to  two  thousand  houses  at  the  onset. 

In  the  Village  a  Co-operative  Goods  Store  should  be 
established,  supplying  everything  that  was  really  necessary 
for  the  villagers  at  the  most  economic  prices. 

The  sale  of  intoxicating  drink  should  be  strictly  forbidden 
on  the  Estate,  and  if  possible,  the  landowner  from  whom 
the  land  is  obtained  should  be  tied  off  from  allowing  any 
licenses  to  be  held  on  any  other  portion  of  the  adjoining 
land. 

It  is  thought  that  the  Railway  Company,  in  considera- 
tion of  the  inconvenience  and  suffering  they  have  inflicted 
on  the  poor,  and  in  their  own  interests,  might  be  induced 
to  make  the  following  advantageous  arrangements  : 

(i)  The  conveyance  of  each  member  actually  living  in 
the  village  to  and  from  London  at  the  rate  of  six  pence 
per  week.  Each  pass  should  have  on  it  the  portrait  of 
the  owner,  and  be  fastened  to  some  article  of  the  dress, 
and  be  available  only  by  Workmen's  Trains  running  early 
and  late  and  during  certain  hours  of  the  day,  when  the 
trains  are  almost  empty. 

(2)  The  conveyance  of  goods  and  parcels  should  be  at 
half  the  ordinary  rates. 

It  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  landowners  would 
gladly  give  one  hundred  acres  of  land  in  view  of  the 
immensely  advanced  values  of  the  surrounding  property 
which  would  im^mediately  follow,  seeing  that  the  erection 
of  one  thousand  or  two  thousand  cottages  would  constitute 
the  nucleus  of  a  much  larger  Settlement. 

Lastly,  the  rent  of  a  four-roomed  cottage  must  not 
exceed  3s.   per  week.      Add  to  this  the  sixpenny  ticket  to 


264  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

and  from  London,  and  you  have  3s.  6d.,  and  if  the  com 
pany  should  insist  on  is.,  it  will  make  4s.,  for  which  there 
would  be  all  the  advantages  of  a  comfortable  cottage — of 
which  it  would  be  possible  for  the  tenant  to  become  the 
owner — a  good  garden,  pleasant  surroundings,  and  other 
influences  promotive  of  the  health  and  happiness  of  the 
family.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  remark  that  in  connection 
with  this  Village  there  will  be  perfect  freedom  of  opinion  on 
all  matters.  A  glance  at  the  ordinary  homes  of  the  poor 
people  of  this  great  City  will  at  once  assure  us  that  such 
a  village  would  be  a  veritable  Paradise  to  them,  and  that 
were  four,  five,  or  six  settlements  provided  at  once  they 
would  not  contain  a  tithe  of  the  people  who  would  throng 
to  occupy  them. 

Section  3. — The  Poor  Man's  Bank. 

If  the  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil,  the  want  of 
money  is  the  cause  of  an  immensity  of  evil  and  trouble. 
The  moment  you  begin  practically  to  alleviate  the  miser- 
ies of  the  people,  you  discover  that  the  eternal  want  of 
pence  is  one  of  their  greatest  difficulties.  In  my  most 
sanguine  moments  I  have  never  dreamed  of  smoothing 
this  difficulty  out  of  the  lot  of  man,  but  it  is  surely  no 
unattainable  ideal  to  establish  a  Poor  Man's  Bank,  which 
will  extend  to  the  lower  middle  class  and  the  working 
population  the  advantages  of  the  credit  system,  which  is 
the  very  foundation  of  our  boasted  commerce. 

It  might  be  better  that  there  should  be  no  such  thing 
as  credit,  that  no  one  should  lend  money,  and  that  every- 
one should  be  compelled  to  rely  solely  upon  whatever 
ready  money  he  may  possess  from  day  to  day.  But  if  so, 
let  us  apply  the  principle  all  round  ;  do  not  let  us  glory 
in  our  world-wide  commerce  and  boast  ourselves  in  our 
riches,    obtained,  in    so    many    cases,  by    the    ignoring   of 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  265 

this  principle.  If  it  is  right  for  a  great  merchant  to  have 
dealings  with  his  banker,  if  it  is  indispensable  for  the 
due  carrying  on  of  the  business  of  the  rich  men  that  they 
should  have  at  their  elbow  a  credit  system  which  will 
from  time  to  time  accommodate  them  with  needful 
advances  and  enable  them  to  stand  up  against  the  pres- 
sure of  sudden  demands,  which  otherwise  would  wreck 
them,  then  surely  the  case  is  still  stronger  for  providing 
a  similar  resource  for  the  smaller  men,  the  weaker  men. 
At  present,  Society  is  organized  far  too  much  on  the 
principle  of  giving  to  him  who  hath  so  that  he  shall  have 
more  abundantly,  and  taking  away  from  him  who  hath 
not  even  that  which  he  hath. 

If  we  are  to  really  benefit  the  poor,  we  can  only  do  so 
by  practical  measures.  We  have  merely  to  look  round 
and  see  the  kind  of  advantages  which  wealthy  men  find 
indispensable  for  the  due  management  of  their  business, 
and  ask  ourselves  whether  poor  men  cannot  be  supplied 
with  the  same  opportunities.  The  reason  why  they  are 
not  is  obvious.  To  supply  the  needs  of  the  rich  is  a 
means  of  making  yourself  rich ;  to  supply  the  needs  of  the 
poor  will  involve  you  in  trouble  so  out  of  proportion  to 
the  profit  that  the  game  may  not  be  worth  the  candle. 
Men  go  into  banking  and  other  businesses  for  the  sake 
of  obtaining  what  the  American  humorist  said  was  the 
chief  end  of  man  in  these  modern  times,  namely,  "ten  per 
cent."  To  obtain  a  ten  per  cent,  what  will  not  men  do? 
They  will  penetrate  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  explore  the 
depths  of  the  sea  ascend  the  snow-capped  mountain's 
highest  peak,  or  navig  the  air,  if  they  can  be  guaran- 
teed a  ten  par  cen  I  do  not  venture  to  suggest  that  the 
business  of  a  Poor  Man's  Bank  would  yield  ten  percent., 
or  even  five,  but  I  think  it  might  be  made  to  pay  its 
expenses,  and  the  resulting  gain  to  the  community  would 
be  enormous. 


266  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Ask  any  merchant  in  your  acquaintance  where  his  busi- 
ness would  be  if  he  had  no  banker,  and  then,  when  you 
have  his  answer,  ask  yourself  whether  it  would  not  be  an 
object  worth  taking  some  trouble  to  secure,  to  furnish  the 
great  mass  of  our  fellow  countrymen,  on  sound  business 
principles  with  the  advantages  of  the  credit  system,  which 
is  found  to  work  so  beneficially  for  the  "well-to-do"  few. 

Some  day,  I  hope,  the  State  may  be  sufficiently  enlight- 
ened to  take  up  this  business  itself ;  at  present  it  is  left 
in  the  hands  of  the  pawnbroker  and  the  loan  agency,  and 
a  set  of  sharks,  who  cruelly  prey  upon  the  interests  of 
the  poor.  The  establishment  of  land  banks,  where  the 
poor  man  is  almost  always  a  peasant,  has  been  one  of  the 
features  of  modern  legislation  m  Russia,  Germany  and 
elsewhere.  The  institution  of  a  Poor  Man's  Bank  will  be, 
I  hope,  before  long,  one  of  the  recognized  objects  of  our 
own  government. 

Pending  that,  I  venture  to  throw  out  a  suggestion,  with- 
out in  any  way  pledging  myself  to  add  this  branch  of 
activity  to  the  already  gigantic  range  of  operations  fore- 
shadowed in  this  book — Would  it  not  be  possible  for  some 
philanthropist  with  capital  to  establish  on  clearly  defined 
principles  a  Poor  Man's  Bank  for  the  making  of  small 
loans  on  good  security,  or  making  advances  to  those  who 
are  in  danger  of  being  overwhelmed  by  sudden  financial 
pressure — in  fact,  for  doing  for  the  "little  man"  what  all 
the  banks  do  for  the  "big  man  '  ? 

Meanwhile  should  it  enter  into  the  heart  of  some 
benevolently  disposed  possessor  of  wealth  to  give  the 
price  of  a  race  horse,  or  of  an  "old  master,"  to  form  the 
nucleus  of  the  necessary  capital,  I  will  certainly  experi- 
ment in  this  direction. 

I  can  anticipate  the  sneer  of  the  cynic  who  scoffs  at 
what  he  calls  my  glorified  pawnshop.  I  am  indifferent  to 
his  sneers.     A  Mont  de  Pi^t^ — the   very  name  (Mount  of 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  267 

Piety)  shows  that  the  Poor  Man's  Bank  is  regarded  as 
anything  but  an  objectionable  institution  across  the 
Channel — might  be  an  excellent  institution  in  England. 
Owing,  however,  to  the  vested  interests  of  the  existing 
traders  it  might  be  impossible  for  the  State  to  establish 
it,  excepting  at  a  ruinous  expense.  There  would  be  no 
difficulty,  however  of  instituting  a  private  Mont  de  Piet^, 
which  would  confer  an  incalculable  boon  upon  the  strug 
gling  poor. 

Further,  I  am  by  no  means  indisposed  to  recognize  the 
necessity  of  dealing  with  this  subject  in  connection  with 
the  Labor  Bureau,  provided  that  one  clearly  recognized 
principle  can  be  acted  upon.  That  principle  is  that  a  man 
shall  be  free  to  bind  him.self  as  security  for  the  payment 
of  a  loan,  that  is  to  pledge  himself  to  work  for  his  rations 
until  such  time  as  he  has  repaid  capital  and  interest.  An 
illustration  or  two  will  explain  what  I  mean.  Here  is  a 
carpenter  who  comes  to  our  Labor  shed ;  he  is  an  honest, 
decent  man,  who  has  by  sickness  or  some  other  calamity 
been  reduced  to  destitution.  He  has  by  degrees  pawned 
one  article  after  another  to  keep  body  and  soul  together, 
until  at  last  he  has  been  compelled  to  pawn  his  tools. 
We  register  him  and  an  employer  comes  along  who  wants 
a  carpenter  whom  we  can  recommend.  We  at  once  sug- 
gest this  man,  but  then  arises  this  difficulty.  He  has  no 
tools;  what  are  we  to  do?  As  things  are  at  present,  the 
man  loses  the  job  and  continues  on  our  hands.  Obvi- 
ously it  is  most  desirable  in  the  interest  of  the  community 
that  the  man  should  get  his  tools  out  of  pawn ;  but  who 
is  to  take  the  responsibility  of  advancing  the  money  to 
redeem  them?  This  difficulty  might  be  met,  I  think,  by 
the  man  entering  into  a  legal  undertaking  to  make  over 
his  wages  to  us,  or  such  proportion  of  them  as  would  be 
convenient  to  his  circumstances,  we  in  return  undertaking 
to  find  him  in  food  and  shelter  until  such  time  as   he  has 


268        ^  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

repaid  the  advance  made.  That  obligation  it  would  be 
the  truest  kindness  to  enforce  with  Rhadamantine  severity. 
Until  the  man  is  out  of  debt  he  is  not  his  own  master. 
All  that  he  can  make,  over  his  actual  rations  and  Shelter 
money  should  belong  to  his  creditor.  Of  course  such  an 
arrangement  might  be  varied  indefinitely  by  private  agree- 
ment ;  the  repayment  of  instalments  could  be  spread  over 
a  longer  or  shorter  time,  but  the  mainstay  of  the  whole 
prmciple  would  be  the  execution  of  a  legal  agreement  by 
which  the  man  makes  over  the  whole  product  of  his  labor 
to  the  Bank  until  he  has  repaid  his  debt. 

Take  another  instance,  A  clerk  who  has  been  many 
years  in  a  situation,  and  has  a  large  family  which  he  has 
brought  up  respectably  and  educated.  He  has  every  pros- 
pect of  retiring  in  a  few  years  upon  a  superanuatmg 
allowance,  but  is  suddenly  confronted  by  a  claim,  often 
through  no  fault  of  his  own,  of  a  sum  of  fifty  or  a  hundred 
pounds,  which  is  quite  beyond  his  means.  He  has  been 
a  careful,  saving  man,  who  has  never  borrowed  a  penny 
in  his  life,  and  does  not  know  where  to  turn  in  his  emer- 
gency. If  he  cannot  raise  this  money  he  will  be  sold  up, 
his  family  will  be  scattered,  his  situation  and  his  prospect- 
ive pension  will  be  lost,  and  blank  ruin  will  stare  him  in 
the  face.  Now,  were  he  in  receipt  of  an  income  of  ten  times 
the  amount,  he  would  probably  have  a  banking  account,  and, 
m  consequence,  be  able  to  secure  an  advance  of  all  he 
needed  from  his  banker.  Why  should  he  not  be  able  to 
pledge  his  salary,  or  a  portion  of  it,  to  an  Institution 
which  would  enable  him  to  pay  off  his  debt,  on  terms 
that,  while  sufficiently  remunerative  to  the  bank,  would  not 
unduly  embarrass  him? 

At  present  what  does  the  poor  wretch  do?  He  con- 
sults his  friends,  who,  it  is  quite  possible,  are  as  hard  up 
as  himself,  or  he  applies  to  some  loan  agency,  and  as 
likely  as  not  falls  into  the  hands  of  sharpers,  who  indeed, 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  369 

let  him  have  the  money,  but  at  interest  altogether  out  of 
proportion  to  the  risk  which  they  run,  and  the  use  of  the 
advantage  which  their  position  gives  them  to  extort  every 
penny  he  has.  A  great  black  book  written  within  and 
without  in  letters  of  lamentation,  mourning  and  woe, 
might  be  written  on  the  dealings  of  these  usurers  with 
their  victims  in  every  land. 

It  is  of  little  service  denouncing  these  extortioners. 
They  have  always  existed,  and  probably  always  will ;  but  what 
we  can  do  is  to  circumscribe  the  range  of  their  operations  and 
the  number  of  their  victims.  This  can  only  be  done  by  a 
legitimate  and  merciful  provision  for  these  poor  creatures 
in  their  hours  of  desperate  need,  so  as  to  prevent  their 
falling  into  the  hands  of  these  remorseless  wretches,  who 
have  wrecked  the  fortunes  of  thousands,  and  driven  many 
a  decent  man  to  suicide   or   a   premature    grave. 

There  are  endless  ramifications  of  this  principle,  which 
do  not  need  to  be  described  here,  but  before  leaving  the 
subject  I  may  allude  to  an  evil  which  is  a  cruel  reality, 
alas!  to  a  multitude  of  unfortunate  men  and  women.  I 
refer  to  the  working  of  the  Hire  system.  The  decent 
poor  man  or  woman  who  is  anxious  to  earn  an  honest 
penny  b}^  the  use  of,  it  may  be  a  mangle,  or  a  sewing- 
machine,  a  lathe,  or  some  other  indispensable  instrument, 
and  is  without  the  few  pounds  necessary  to  buy  it,  must 
take  it  on  the  Hire  system — that  is  to  say,  for  the  accom 
modation  of  being  allowed  to  pay  for  the  machine  by  in- 
stalments— he  is  charged,  in  addition  to  the  full  market 
value  of  his  purchase,  ten  or  twenty  times  the  amount  of 
what  would  be  a  fair  rate  of  interest,  and  more  than  this 
if  he  should  at  any  time,  through  misfortune,  fail  in  his 
payment  the  total  amount  paid  will  be  confiscated,  the 
machine  seized,  and  the  money  lost. 

Here  again  we  fall  back  on  our  analogy  of  what  goes 
on  in  a  small  community  where  neighbors  know  each  other. 


a-rO  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Take,  for  instance;  when  a  lad  who  is  recognized  as  bright, 
promising,  honest  and  industrious,  who  wants  to  make  a 
start  in  life  which  requires  some  little  outlay,  his  better- 
to-do  neighbor  will  often  assist  him  by  providing  the 
capital  necessary  to  enable  him  to  make  a  way  for  himself 
m  the  world  This  neighbor  does  this  because  he  knows 
the  lad,  because  the  family  is  at  least  related  by  ties  of 
neighborhood,  and  the  honor  of  the  lad's  family  is  a 
security  upon  which  a  man  may  safely  advance  a  small 
sum.  All  this  would  equally  apply  to  a  destitute  widow, 
an  artisan  suddenly  thrown  out  of  work,  an  orphan  family 
or  the  like.  In  the  large  City  all  this  kindly  helpfulness 
disappears,  and  with  it  go  all  those  small  acts  of  service 
which  are,  as  it  were,  the  buffers  which  save  men  from 
being  crushed  to  death  against  the  iron  walls  of  circum- 
stances. We  must  try  to  replace  them  in  some  way  or 
other  if  we  are  to  get  back,  not  to  the  Garden  of  Eden, 
but  to  the  ordinary  conditions  of  life,  as  they  exist  in  a 
healthy,  small  community.  No  institution,  it  is  true,  can 
ever  replace  the  magic  bond  of  personal  friendship,  but  ii 
we  have  the  whole  mass  of  society  permeated  in  every 
direction  by  brotherly  associations  established  for  the  pur- 
pose of  mutual  help  and  sympathizing  counsel,  it  is  not 
an  impossible  thing  to  believe  that  we  shall  be  able  to  do 
something  to  restore  the  missing  element  in  modern  civili- 
zation. 

Section  4.  —  The  Poor  Man's  Lawyer. 
The  moment  you  set  about  dealing  with  the  wants  of 
the  people  you  discover  that  many  of  their  difficulties  are 
not  material,  but  moral.  There  never  was  a  greater  mis- 
take than  to  imagine  that  you  have  only  to  fill  a  man's 
stomach,  and  clothe  his  back  in  order  to  secure  his  hap- 
piness. Man  is,  much  more  than  a  digestive  apparatus, 
liable  to  get  out  of  order.  Hence,  while  it  is  important 
to  remember  that  man  has  a  stomach,  it  is  also  necessary 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  37 1 

to  bear  in  mind  that  he  has  a  heart,  and  a  mind  that  is 
frequently  sorely  troubled  by  difficulties  which,  if  he  lived 
in  a  friendly  world,  would  often  disappear.  A  man,  and 
stiil  more  a  woman,  stands  often  quite  as  much  in  need 
of  a  trusted  adviser  as  he  or  she  does  of  a  dinner  or  a 
dress  Many  a  poor  soul  is  miserable  all  the  day  long, 
and  gets  dragged  down  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  depths 
of  sin  and  sorrow  and  despair  for  want  of  a  sympathizing 
friend,  who  can  give  her  advice,  and  make  her  feel  that 
somebody  in  the  world  cares  for  her,  and  will  help  her  if 
tney  can. 

If  we  are  to  bring  back  the  sense  of  brotherhood  to  th6 
world,  we  must  confront  this  difficulty.  God,  it  was  said 
in  old  time,  setteth  the  desolate  in  families  ;  but  somehow, 
in  our  time,  the  desolate  wander  alone  in  the  midst  of  a 
careless  and  unsympathizing  world.  "There  is  no  one 
who  cares  for  my  soul.  There  is  no  creature  loves  me, 
and  if  I  die  no  one  will  pity  me,'  is  surely  one  of  the 
bitterest  cries  that  can  burst  from  a  breaking  heart.  One 
of  the  secrets  of  the  success  of  the  Salvation  Army  is, 
that  the  friendless  of  the  world  find  friends  in  it.  There 
is  not  one  sinner  in  the  world — no  matter  how  degraded 
and  dirty  he  may  be — whom  my  people  will  not  rejoice  to 
take  by  the  hand  and  pray  with,  and  labor  for,  if  thereby 
they    can    but    snatch    him  as  a  brand  from  the  burning. 

Now,  we  want  to  make  more  use  of  this,  to  make  the 
Salvation  Army  the  nucleus  of  a  great  agency  for  bringing 
comfort  and  counsel  to  those  who  are  at  their  wit's  end, 
feeling  as  if  in  the  whole  world  there  was  no  one  to  whom 
they  could  go. 

What  we  want  to  do  Is  to  exemplify  to  the  world  the 
family  idea.  'Our  Father"  is  the  keynote.  One  is  Our 
Father,  then  all  we  are  brethren.  But  in  a  family,  if 
anyone  is  troubled  in  mind  or  conscience,  there  is  no 
difficulty.     The  daughter  goes  to  her  father,  or  the  son  to 


«72  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

his  mother^  and  pour  out  their  soul's  troubles,  and  are 
relieved.  If  there  is  any  serious  difficulty  a  family  council 
is  held,  and  all  unite  their  will  and  their  resources  to  get 
matters  put  straight.  This  is  what  we  mean  to  try  to 
get  done  in  the  New  organization  of  Society  for  which 
we  are  laboring.  We  cannot  know  better  than  God 
Almighty  what  will  do  good  to  man.  We  are  content  to 
follow  on  His  lines,  and  to  mend  the  world  we  shall  seek 
to  restore  something  of  the  family  idea  to  the  many 
hundreds  of  thousands — nay,  millions — who  have  no  one 
wiser  or  more  experienced  than  themselves,  to  whom  they 
can  take  their  sorrows,  or  consult  m  their  difficulties. 

Of  course  we  can  do  this  but  imperfectly.  Only  God 
can  create  a  mother."  But  Society  needs  a  great  deal  of 
mothering,  much  more  than  it  gets.  And  as  a  child 
needs  a  mother  to  run  to  in  its  difficulties  and  troubles, 
to  whom  it  can  let  out  its  little  heart  m  confidence,  so 
men  and  women,  weary  and  worn  in  the  battles  of  life, 
need  some  one  to  whom  they  can  go  when  pressed  down 
with  a  sense  of  wrongs  suffered  or  done,  knowing  that 
their  confidence  will  be  preserved  inviolate,  and  that  theii' 
statements  will  be  received  with  sympathy.  I  propose  to 
attempt  to  meet  this  want.  I  shall  establish  a  depart- 
ment, over  which  I  shall  place  the  wisest,  the  pitifullest, 
and  the  most  sagacious  men  and  women  whom  I  can  find 
on  my  staff,  to  whom  those  m  trouble  and  perplexity  shall 
be  invited  to  address  themselves.  It  is  no  use  saying  that  we 
love  our  fellow  men  unless  we  try  to  help  them,  and  it  is 
no  use  pretending  to  sympathize  with  the  heavy  burdens 
which  darken  their  lives  unless  we  try  to  ease  them  and 
to  lighten  their  existence. 

Insomuch  as  we  have  more  practical  experience  of  life 
than  other  men,  by  so  much  are  we  bound  to  help  their 
inexperience,  and  Sxjare  our  talents  with  them.  But  if 
we  believe  they  are   our   brothers,  and    that    One    is    our 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  %7t 

Father,  even  the  God  who  will  come  to  judge  us  hereafter 
for  all  the  deeds  that  we  have  done  in  the  body,  then  must 
we  constitute,  in  some  such  imperfect  way  as  is  open  to 
us,  the  parental  ofHce.  We  must  be  willing  to  receive 
the  outpourings  of  our  struggling  fellow  men,  to  listen  to 
the  long-buried  secret  that  has  troubled  the  human  heart, 
and  to  welcome,  instead  of  repelling,  those  who  would  obey 
the  Apostolic  precept :  "To  confess  their  sins,  one  to 
another."  Let  not  that  word  confession  scandalize  any. 
Confession  of  the  most  open  sort ;  confession  on  the  public 
platform  before  the  presence  of  all  the  man's  former  asso- 
ciates in  sin  has  long  been  one  of  the  most  potent  weapons 
by  which  the  Salvation  Army  has  won  its  victories. 
That  confession  we  have  long  imposed  on  all  our  converts, 
and  it  is  the  only  confession  which  seems  to  us  to  be  a 
condition  of  Salvation.  But  this  suggestion  is  of  a  differ- 
ent kind.  It  is  not  imposed  as  a  means  of  grace.  It  is 
not  put  forward  as  a  preliminary  to  the  absolution  which 
no  one  can  pronounce  but  our  Lord  Himself.  It  is 
merely  a  response  on  our  part  to  one  of  the  deepest  needs 
and  secret  longings  of  the  actual  men  and  women  who  are 
meeting  us  daily  in  our  work.  Why  should  they  be  left 
to  brood  in  misery  over  their  secret  sin,  when  a  plain 
straightforward  talk  with  a  man  or  woman  selected  for  his 
or  her  sympathetic  common  sense  and  spiritual  experience 
might  take  the  weight  off  their  shoulders  which  is  crushing 
them  into  dull  despair? 

Not  for  absolution,  but  for  sympathy  and  direction,  do 
I  propose  to  establish  my  Advice  Bureau  in  definite  form, 
for  m  practice  it  has  been  in  existence  for  some  time, 
and  wonderful  things  have  been  done  in  the  direction  on 
which  I  contemplate  it  working.  I  have  no  pleasure  in 
inventing  these  departments.  They  all  entail  hard  work 
and  no  end  of  anxiety.      But  if    we    are    to    represent    the 

love  of  God  to  men,  we  must   minister   to   all   the   wants 
i8 


274  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

and  needs  of  the  human  heart.  Nor  is  it  only  in  affair^ 
of  the  heart  that  this  Advice  Bureau  will  be  of  service. 
It  will  be  quite  as  useful  in  affairs  of  the  head.  As  I 
conceive  it,  the  Advice  Bureau  will  be 

THE  POOR   man's   LAWYER    AND    THE    POOR    MAN's    TRIBUNE. 

There  are  no  means  in  London,  so  far  as  my  knowledge 
goes,  by  which  the  poor  and  needy  can  obtain  any  legal 
assistance  in  the  varied  oppressions  and  difBculties  from 
which  they  must,  in  consequence  of  their  poverty  and 
associations,  be  continually  suffering. 

While  the  "well-to-do'  classes  can  fall  back  upon  skilful 
friends  for  direction,  or  avail  themselves  of  the  learning 
and  experience  of  the  legal  profession,  the  poor  man  has 
literally  no  one  qualified  to  counsel  him  on  such  matters. 
In  cases  of  sickness  he  can  apply  to  the  parish  doctor  or 
the  great  hospital,  and  receive  an  odd  word  or  two  of 
advice,  with  a  bottle  of  physic,  which  may  or  may  not  be 
of  service.  But  if  his  circumstances  are  sick,  out  of 
order,  in  danger  of  carrying  him  to  utter  destitution,  or 
to  prison,  or  to  the  Union,  he  has  no  one  to  appeal  to 
who  has  the  willingness  or  the  ability  to  help  him. 

Now,  we  want  to  create  a  Court  of  Counsel  or  Appeal, 
to  which  anyone  suffering  from  imposition  having  to  do 
with  person,  liberty,  or  property,  or  anything  else  of 
sufficient  importance,  can  apply,  and  obtain  not  only 
advice,  but  practical  assistance. 

Among  others  for  whom  this  Court  would  be  devised  is 
the  shamefully-neglected  class  of  Widows,  of  whom  in  the 
East  of  London  there  are  6,000,  mostly  in  very  destitute 
circumstances.  In  the  whole  of  London  there  cannot  be 
less  than  20,000,  and  in  England  and  Wales  it  is  estima- 
ted there  are  100,000,  fifty  thousand  of  whom  are  probably 
poor  and  friendless. 

The  treatment  of  these  poor  people  by  the  nation  is  a 
crying  scandal.     Take   the   case   of    the    average    widow.. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  275 

even  when  left  In  comfortable  circumstances.  She  will 
often  be  launched  into  a  sea  of  perplexity,  although  able 
to  avail  herself  of  the  best  advice.  But  think  of  the 
multitudes  of  poor  women,  who,  when  they  close  their 
husband's  eyes,  lose  the  only  friend  who  knows  anything 
about  their  circumstances.  There  may  be  a  trifle  of 
money  or  a  struggling  business  or  a  little  income  connec- 
ted with  property  or  some  other  possession,  all  needing 
immediate  attention,  and  that  of  a  skilful  sort,  in  order 
to  enable  the  poor  creature  to  weather  the  storm,  and 
avoid  the  vortex  of  utter  destitution. 

All  we  have  said  applies  equally  to  orphans  and  friend- 
less people  generally.  Nothing,  however,  short  of  a 
national  institution  could  meet  the  necessities  of  all 
such  cases.  But  we  can  do  something,  and  in  matters 
already  referred  to,  such  as  involve  loss  of  property, 
malicious  prosecution,  criminal  and  otherwise,  we  can 
render  substantial  assistance 

In  carrying  out  this  purpose  it  will  be  no  part  of  our 
plan  to  encourage  legal  proceedings  in  others,  or  to  have 
recourse  to  them  ourselves.  All  resort  to  law  would  be 
avoided  either  in  counselor  practice,  unless,  absolutely 
necessary.  But  where  manifest  injustice  and  wrong  are 
perpetrated,  and  every  other  method  of  obtaining  repara- 
tion fails,  we  shall  avail  ourselves  of  the  assistance  the 
Law  affords. 

Our  great  hope  of  usefulness,  however,  in  this  depart- 
ment lies  in  prevention.  The  knowledge  that  the 
oppressed  poor  have  in  us  a  friend  able  to  speak  for 
them  will  often  prevent  the  injustice  which  cowardly  and 
avaricious  persons  might  otherwise  inflict,  and  the  same 
considerations  may  induce  them  to  accord  without  com- 
pulsion the  right  of  the  weak  and  friendless.  I  also  calcu- 
late upon  a  wide  sphere  of  usefulness  in  the  direction  of 
friendly  arbitration  and    intervention.      There    will   be   at 


376  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

least  one  disinterested  tribunal,  however  humble,  to  which 
business,  domestic,  or  any  other  questions  of  a  conten- 
tious and  litigious  nature  can  be  referred  without  involv- 
ing any  serious  costs.  The  following  incidents  have  been 
gathered  from  operations  already  undertaken  in  this  direc- 
tion, and  will  explain  and  illustrate  the  kind  of  work  we 
contemplate,  and  some  of  the  benefits  that  may  be 
expected  to  follow  from  it  • 

About  four  years  ago  a  young  and  delicate  girl,  the 
daughter  of  a  pilot,  came  to  us  in  great  distress.  Her 
story  was  that  of  thousands  of  others.  She  had  been 
betrayed  by  a  man  in  a  good  position  in  the  West  End, 
and  was  now  the  mother  of  an  infant  child. 

Just  before  her  confinement  her  seducer  had  taken  her 
to  his  solicitors  and  made  her  sign  and  swear  an  affidavit 
to  the  effect  that  he  was  not  the  father  of  the  then 
expected  child.  Upon  this  he  gave  her  a  few  pounds  in 
settlement  of  all  claims  upon  him.  The  poor  thing  was 
in  great  poverty  and  distress.  Through  our  solicitors,  we 
immediately  opened  communications  with  the  man,  and 
after  negotiations,  he,  to  avoid  further  proceedings,  was 
compelled  to  secure  by  a  deed  a  proper  allowance  to  his 
unfortunate  victim  for  the  maintenance  of  her  child. 

SHADOWED  AND   CAUGHT. 

A was    induced    to     leave    a    comfortable    home    to 

become  the  governess  of  the  motherless    chUdren    of    Mr. 

G ,  whom  she   found    to    be    a   kind    and    considerate 

employer.  After  she  had  been  in  his  service  some  little 
time  he  proposed  Chat  she  should  take  a  trip  to  London 
To  this  she  very  jl::dly  consented,  all  the  more  so  when 
he  offered  to  t:.ive  her  himself  to  a  good  appointment  he 
had  secured  for  her.  In  London  he  seduced  her,  and  kept 
her  as  his  mistress  until,  tired  of  her,  he  told  her  to  go 
and  do  as  "other  women  did.' 

Instead  of  descending  to  this  infamy,  she  procured 
work,  and  so  supported  herself  and  child  in  some  degree  of 
comfort,  when  he  sought  her  out  and  agam  dragged  her 
down.  Another  child  was  born,  and  a  second  time  he 
threw  her  up  and  left  her  to  starve.  It  was  then  she 
applied  to  our  people.     We  hunted  up  the  man,  followed 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  Mf 

him  to  the  country,  threatened  him  with  public  exposure," 
and  forced  from  him  the  payment  to  his  victim  of  ;£"6q 
down,  an  allowance  of  ^i  a  week,  and  an  Insurance  Policy 
on  his  life  for  ^450  in  her  favor. 

;^6o    FROM    ITALY. 

C.  was  seduced  by  a  young  Italian  of  good  position  in 
society,  who  promised  to  marry  her,  but  a  short  time 
before  the  day  fixed  for  the  ceremony  he  told  her  urgent 
business  called  him  abroad.  He  assured  her  that  he  would 
return  in  two  years  and  make  her  his  wife.  He  wrote 
occasionally,  and  at  last  broke  her  heart  by  sending  the 
news  of  his  marriage  to  another,  adding  insult  to  injury 
by  suggesting  that  she  should  come  and  live  with  his  wife 
as  her  maid,  offering  at  the  same  time  to  pay  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  child  till  it  was  old  enough  to  be- 
placed  in  charge  of  the  captain  of  one  of  the  vessels 
belonging  to  his  firm. 

None  of  these  promises  were  fulfilled,  and  C,  with  her 
mother's  assistance,  for  a  time  managed  to  support  herself 
and  child ;  but  the  mother,  worn  out  by  age  and  trouble, 
could  help  her  no  longer,  and  the  poor  girl  was  driven  to 
despair.  Her  case  was  brought  before  us,  and  we  at  once 
set  to  work  to  assist  her.  The  Consul  of  the  town  where 
the  seducer  lived  in  style  was  communicated  with. 
Approaches  were  made  to  the  young  man's  father,  who, 
to  save  the  dishonor  that  would  follow  exposure,  paid 
over  ^60.  This  helps  to  maintain  the  child ;  and  the  girl 
is  in  domestic  service  and  doing  well. 

THE   HIRE    SYSTEM. 

The  most  cruel  wrongs  are  frequently  inflicted  on  the 
very  poorest  persons,  in  connection  with  this  method  of 
obtaining  Furniture,  Sewing  Machines,  Mangles,  or  other 
articles.  Caught  by  the  lure  of  misleading  advertisements, 
the  poor  are  induced  to  purchase  articles  to  be  paid  for 
by  weekly  or  monthly  instalments.  They  struggle  through 
half  the  amount  perhaps,  at  all  manner  of  sacrifice,  when 
some  delay  in  the  payment  is  made  th©  occasion  not  onlv 
for  seizing  the  goods,  which  they  have  come  to  regard  as 
their  own,  and  on  which  their  very  existence  depends,  but 


278  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

by  availing  themselves  of  some  technical  clause  in  the 
agreement,  for  robbing  them  in  addition.  In  such  circum- 
stances the  poor  things,  being  utterly  friendless,  have  to 
submit  to  these  infamous  extortions  without  remedy  Our 
Bureau  will  be  open  to  all  such. 

TALLYMEN,    MONEY    LENDERS,    AND    BILLS-OF-SALEMONGERS- 

Here  again  we  have  a  class  who  prey  upon  the  poverty 
of  the  people,  inducing  them  to  purchase  things  for  which 
they  have  often  no  immediate  use — anyway  for  which  there 
is  no  real  necessity — by  all  manner  of  specious  promises 
as  to  easy  terms  of  repayment.  And  once  having  got 
their  dupes  into  their  power  they  drag  them  down  to 
misery,  and  very  often  utter  temporal  ruin ;  once  in  their 
net  escape  is  exceedingly  difficult,  if  not  impossible.  We 
propose  to  help  the  poor  victims  by  this  Scheme,  as  far 
as  possible. 

Our  Bureau,  we  expect  will  be  of  immense  service  to 
Clergymen,  Ministers  of  all  denominations.  District 
Visitors,  Missionaries,  and  others  who  freely  mix  among 
the  poor,  seeing  that  they  must  be  frequently  appealed  to 
for  legal  advice,  which  they  were  quite  unable  to  give, 
and  equally  at  a  loss  to  obtain.  We  should  always  be 
very  glad  to  assist  such. 

THE    DEFENCE   OF    UNDEFENDED  PERSONS, 

The  conviction  is  gradually  fixing  itself  upon  the  public 
mind  that  a  not  inconsiderable  number  of  innocent  per- 
sons are  from  time  to  time  convicted  of  crimes  ard 
offenses,  the  reason  for  which  often  is  the  mere  inability 
to  secure  an  efficient  defence.  Although  there  are  several 
societies  in  London  and  the  country  dealing  with  the 
criminal  classes,  and  more  particularly  with  discharged 
prisoners,  yet  there  does  not  appear  to  be  one  for  the 
purpose  of  assisting  unconvicted  prisoners.  This  work  w« 
propose  boldly  to  take  up. 

By    this    and    many    other   ways   we   shall   help   those 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  279 

charged  with  criminal  offenses,  who,  on  a  most  careful 
enquiry,  might  reasonably  be  supposed  to  be  innocent, 
but  who,  through  want  of  means,  are  unable  to  obtain  the 
legal  assistance,  and  produce  the  evidence  necessary  for 
an  efficient  defence. 

We  shall  not  pretend  authoritatively  to  judge  as  to  who 
is  innocent  or  who  is  guilty,  but  if  after  full  explanation 
and  enquiry  the  person  charged  may  reasonably  be  supposed 
to  be  innocent,  and  is  not  in  a  position  to  defend  himself, 
then  we  should  feel  free  to  advise  such  a  case,  hoping 
thereby  to  save  such  person  and  his  family  and  friends 
from  much  misery  and  possibly  from  utter  ruin. 

Mr.  Justice  Field  recently  remarked  : — 

"For  a  man  to  assist  another  man  who  was  under  a  crimi- 
nal charge  was  a  highly  laudable  and  praiseworthy  act.  If  a 
man  was  without  friends,  and  an  Englishman  came  forward 
and  legitimately  and  for  the  purpose  of  honestly  assist- 
ing him  with  means  to  put  before  the  Court  his  case, 
that  was  a  highly  laudable  and  praiseworthy  act,  and  he 
should  be  the  last  man  in  the  country  to  complain  of  any 
man  for  so  doing. " 

These  remarks  are  endorsed  by  most  Judges  and 
Magistrates,  and  our  Advice  Bureau  will  give  practical 
effect  to  them. 

In  every  case  an  attempt  will  be  made  to  secure,  not  only 
the  outward  reformation,  but  the  actual  regeneration  of  all 
whom  we  assist.  Special  attention,  as  has  been  described 
under  the  '^  Criminal  Reform  Department,"  will  be  paid  to 
first  offenders. 

We  shall  endeavor  also  to  assist,  as  far  as  we  have  ability, 
the  Wives  and  Children  of  persons  who  are  undergoing 
sentences,  by  endeavoring  to  obtain  for  them  employment, 
or  otherwise  rendering  them  help.  Hundreds  of  this  class 
fall  into  the  deepest  distress  and  demoralization  through 
want  of  friendly  aid  in  the  forlorn  circumstances  in  which 
they  find  themselves  on  the  conviction  of  relatives  on  whom 


380 


IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 


they  have  been  dependent  for  a  lIveHhood,  or  for  protection 
and  direction  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life. 

This  department  will  also  be  responsible  for  gathering  in- 
telligence, spreading  information,  and  the  general  prosecu- 
tion of  such  measures  as  are  likely  to  lead  to  the  much-needed 
beneficial  changes  in  our  Prison  Management.  In  short,  it 
will  seek  to  become  the  true  friend  and  saviour  of  the  Crimi- 
nal Classes  in  general,  and  in  doing  so  we  shall  desire  to  act 
in  harmony  with  the  societies  at  present  in  existence,  who 
may  be  seeking  for  objects  kindred  to  the  Advice  Bureau. 

We  pen  the  following  list  to  give  some  idea  of  the  topics 
on  which  the  Advice  Bureau  may  be  consulted: — 


Accidents,  Claim  for 
Administration    of   Es- 
tates 
Adulteration    of    Food 

and  Drugs 
Agency,  Questions  of 
Agreements,  Disputed 
Affiliation  Cases 
Animals,  Cruelty  to 
Arrest.  Wrongful 
Assault 
Bankruptcies 
Bills  of  Exchange    . 
Bills  of  Sale 
Bonds,  Forfeited 
Breach  of  Promise 
Children.  Cruelty  to 
Children,  Custody  of 
Compensation   for    In- 
juries 
"       for  Accident 
for  Defamation 
for  Loss  of  Em- 
ployment, &c  , 
&c. 
Confiscation  by   Land- 
lords 
Contracts.  Breach  of 
Copyright,        Infringe- 
ment of 


County  Court  Cases 

Debts 

Distress,  Illegal 

Divorce 

Ejectment  Cases 

Employers'LiabilityAct 

Executors,  Duties  of 

Factory  Act,  Branch  of 

Fraud,  Attempted 

Goodwill,  Sale  of 

Guarantee,  Forfeited 

Heir-at-Law 

Husbands  and  Wives, 
Disputes  of 

Imprisonment,  False 

Infants,  Custody  of 

Intestacy,  Cases  of 

Judgment     Summonses 

Landlord  and  Tenant 
Cases 

Leases.  Lapses  and  Re- 
newals of 

Legacies,  Disputed 

Libel  Cases 

Licenses 

Marriage  Law,  Ques- 
tion of  the 

Masters'*  and  Servants' 
Acts 

Mortgages 


Meeting,  Right  of  Pub 

lie 
Negligence,  Alleged 
Next  of  Kin  Wanted 
Nuisances.  Alleged 
Partnership,  the  Law  of 
Patents,       Registration 
and  Infringement  of 
Pawnbrokers  and  their 

Pledges 
Police  Cases 
Probate 

Rates  and  Taxes 
Reversionary   Interests 
Seduction,  Cases  of 
Servants'         Wrongful 

Dismissal 
Sheriffs 

Sureties  Estreated 
Tenancies  Disputed 
Trade  Marks,  Infringe- 
ment of 
Trespass.  Cases  of 
Trustees  and  Trusts 
Wages  Kept  Back 
Wills,     Disputed     and 

Unproved 
Women,  Cruelty  to 
Workmen,    Grievances 
of  &c    &c. 


The  Advic®  Bureau  will  therefore  be,  first  of  all,  a  place 
where  men  and  women  in  trouble  can  come  when  they  please 
to  communicate  in  confidence  the  cause  of  their  anxiety, 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  ^81" 

with  a  certainty  that  they  will  receive  a  sympathetic  heal- 
ing and  the  best  advice. 

Secondly,  it  will  be  a  Poor  Man's  Lawyer,  giving  the 
best  legal  counsel  as  to  the  course  to  be  pursued  in  the  vari- 
ous circumstances  with  which  the  poor  find  themselves  con- 
fronted. 

Thirdly,  it  will  be  a  Poor  man's  Tribune,  and  will  under- 
take the  defence  of  friendlness  prisoners  supposed  to  be' 
innocent,  together  with  the  resistance  of  illegal  extortions, 
and  the  prosecution  of  offenders  v/ho  refuse  legal  satisfaction 
for  the  wrongs  they  have  committed. 

Fourthly,  it  will  act  wherever  it  is  called  upon  as  a  Court 
of  Arbitration  between  litigants,  where  the  decision  will  be 
according  to  equity,  and  the  costs  cut  down  to  the  lowest 
possible  figure. 

Such  a  department  cannot  be  improvised;  but  it  is  al- 
ready in  a  fair  way  of  development,  and  it  can  hardly  fail  to 
do  great  good. 

Section  5. — Our  Intelligence  Department. 

An  indispensable  adjunct  of  this  Scheme  will  be  the 
institution  of  what  may  be  called  an  Intelligence  Depart- 
ment at  Headquarters.  Power,  it  has  been  said,  belongs 
to  the  best  informed,  and  if  we  are  effectually  to  deal  with 
the  forces  of  social  evil,  we  must  have  ready  at  our  fingers' 
ends  the  accumulated  experience  and  information  of  the  whole 
world  on  this  subject.  The  collection  of  facts  and  the  sys- 
tematic record  of  them  would  be  invaluable,  rendering  the 
results  of  the  experiments  of  previous  generations  available 
for  the  information  of  our  ow^n. 

At  the  present  there  is  no  central  institution,  either  gov- 
ernmental or  otherwise,  in  this  country  or  any  other,  which 
charges  itself  with  the  duty  of  collecting  and  collating  the 
ideas  and  conclusions  on  Social  Economy,  so  far  as  they 
are  likely  to  help  the  solution  of  the  problem  we  have  in 


282  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

hand.  The  British  Home  Office  has  only  begun  to  index 
its  own  papers.  The  Local  Government  Board  is  in  a  sim- 
lar  condition,  and,  although  each  particular  Blue  Book  may 
be  admirably  indexed,  there  is  no  classified  index  of  the 
whole  series.  If  this  is  the  case  with  the  Government,  it 
is  not  likely  that  the  innumerable  private  organizations 
which  are  pecking  here  and  there  at  the  social  questiou 
should  possess  any  systematized  method  for  the  purpose  of 
comparing  notes  and  storing  information.  This  Intelligence 
Department,  which  I  propose  to  found  on  a  small  scale  at 
first,  will  have  in  it  the  germ  of  vast  extension,  which  will, 
if  adequately  supported,  become  a  kind  of  University,  in 
which  the  accumulated  experiences  of  the  human  race  will 
be  massed,  digested,  and  rendered  available  to  the  humblest 
toiler  in  the  great  work  of  social  reform.  At  the  present 
moment,  who  is  there  that  can  produce  in  any  of  our 
museums  and  universities  as  much  as  a  classified  index  of 
publications  relating  to  one  of  the  many  heads  under  which 
I  have  dealt  with  this  subject?  Who  is  there  among  all 
our  wise  men  and  social  reformers  that  can  send  me  a  list 
of  all  the  best  tracts  upon — say,  the  establishment  of  agri- 
cultural colonies  or  the  experiments  that  have  been  made  in 
dealing  with  inebriates;  or  the  best  plans  for  the  con- 
struction of  a  working  man's  cottage  ? 

For  the  development  of  this  Scheme  I  want  an  Office  to 
begin  with,  in  which,  under  the  head  of  the  varied  subjects 
treated  of  in  this  volume,  I  may  have  arranged  the  con- 
densed essence  of  all  the  best  books  that  have  been  written, 
and  the  names  and  addresses  of  those  whose  opinions  are 
worth  having  upon  them,  together  with  a  note  of  what 
those  opinions  are,  and  the  results  of  experiments  which 
have  been  made  in  relation  to  them.  I  want  to  establish  a 
system  which  will  enable  me  to  use,  not  only  the  eyes  and 
hands  of  Salvation  Officers,  but  of  sympathetic  friends  in 
all  parts  of  the  world,  for  purposes  of  noticing  and  report- 


And  the  way  out  m^ 

ing  at  once  every  social  experiment  of  importance,  any 
words  of  wisdom  on  the  social  question,  whether  it  may  be 
the  breeding  of  rabbits,  the  organization  of  an  emigration 
service,  the  best  method  of  conducting  a  Cottage  Farm,  or 
the  best  way  of  cooking  potatoes.  There  is  nothing  in  the 
whole  range  of  our  operations  upon  which  we  should  not  be 
accumulating  and  recording  the  results  of  human  experi- 
ence. What  I  want  is  to  get  the  essence  of  wisdom  which 
the  wisest  have  gathered  from  the  widest  experience,  rend- 
ered instantly  available  for  the  humblest  worker  in  the 
Salvation  Factory  or  Farm  Colony,  and  for  any  other  toiler 
in  similar  fields  of  social  progress. 

It  can  be  done,  and  in  the  service  of  the  people  it  ought 
to  be  done.  I  look  for  helpers  in  this  department  among 
those  who  hitherto  may  not  have  cared  for  the  Salvation 
Army,  but  who  in  the  seclusion  of  their  studies  and  libraries 
will  assist  in  the  compiling  of  this  great  Index  of  Sociologi- 
cal Experiments,  and  who  would  be  willing,  in  this  form, 
to  help  in  this  Scheme,  as  Associates,  for  the  amelioration 
of  the  condition  of  the  people,  if  in  nothing  else  than  in 
using  their  eyes  and  ears,  and  giving  me  the  benefit  of 
their  brains  as  to  where  knowledge  lies,  and  how  it  can  best 
be  utilized.  1  propose  to  make  a  beginning  by  putting  two 
capable  men  and  a  boy  in  an  office,  with  instructions  to  cut 
out,  preserve  and  verify  all  contemporary  records  in  the 
daily  and  weekly  press  that  have  a  bearing  upon  any  branch 
of  our  departments.  Round  these  two  men  and  a  boy  will 
grow  up,  I  confidently  believe,  a  vast  organization  of  zeal- 
ous, unpaid  workers,  who  will  co-operate  in  making  our 
Intelligence  Department  a  great  storehouse  of  information 
— a  universal  library  where  any  man  may  learn  what  is  the 
sum  of  human  knowledge  upon  any  branch  of  the  subject 
which  we  have  taken  in  hand. 


284  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 


Section  6. — Co-operation  in  General. 

If  anyone  asked  me  to  state  in  one  word  what  seemed 
likely  to  be  the  key  of  the  solution  of  the  Social  Problem 
I  should  answer  unhesitatingly  Co-operation.  It  being 
always  understood  that  it  is  Co-operation  conducted  on 
righteous  principles,  and  for  wise  and  benevolent  ends ; 
otherwise  Association  cannot  be  expected  to  bear  any  more 
profitable  fruit  than  Individualism.  Co-operation  is 
applied  association — association  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
duction and  distribution.  Co-operation  implies  the  volun- 
tary combination  of  individuals  to  the  attaining  an  object 
by  mutual  help,  mutual  counsel,  and  mutual  effort.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  idle  talk  in  the  world  just  now  about 
capital,  as  if  capital  were  the  enemy  of  labor.  It  is  quite 
true  that  there  are  capitalists  not  a  few  who  may  be 
regarded  as  the  enemies,  not  only  of  labor,  but  of  the 
human  race  ;  but  capital  itself,  so  far  from  being  a  natural 
eneni}^  of  labor,  is  the  great  object  which  the  laborer  has 
constantly  in  view.  However  much  an  agitator  may 
denounce  capital,  his  one  great  grievance  is  that  he  has 
not  enough  of  it  for  himself.  Capital,  therefore,  is  not  an 
evil  in  itself ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  good — so  good  that 
one  of  the  great  aims  of  the  social  reformer  ought  to  be  to 
facilitate  its  widest  possible  distribution  among  his  fellow- 
men.  It  is  the  congestion  of  capital  that  is  evil,  and  the 
labor  question  will  never  be  finally  solved  until  every 
laborer  is  his  own  capitalist. 

All  this  is  trite  enough,  and  has  been  said  a  thousand 
times  already,  but,  unfortunately  with  the  saying  of  it  the 
matter  ends.  Co-operation  has  been  brought  into  prac- 
tice in  relation  to  distribution  with  considerable  success 
but  co-operation,  as  a  means  of  production,  has  not 
achieved   anything   like    the  success  that  was  anticipated. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  385 

Again  and  again  enterprises  have  been  begun  on  co-oper- 
ative principles  which  bid  fair,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
promoters,  to  succeed ;  but  after  one,  two,  three,  or  ten 
years,  the  enterprise  which  was  started  with  such  high 
hopes  has  dwindled  away  into  either  total  or  partial  failure. 
At  present,  many  co-operative  undertakings  are  nothing 
more  or  less  than  huge  Joint  Stock  Limited  Liability 
concerns,  shares  of  which  are  held  largely  by  working 
people,  but  not,  necessarily,  and  sometimes  not  at  all  by 
those  who  are  actually  employed  in  the  so-called  co- 
operative business.  Now,  why  is  this?  Why  do  co- 
operative firms,  co-operative  factories,  and  co-operative 
Utopias  so  very  often  come  to  grief?  1  believe  the  cause  is 
an  open  secret,  and  can  be  discerned  by  anyone  who  will 
lock  at  the  subject  with  an  open  eye. 

The  success  of  industrial  concerns  is  largely  a  question 
of  management.  Mana^^ement  signifies  government,  and 
government  implies  authority,  and  authority  is  the  last 
thing  which  co-operators  of  the  Utopian  order  are  willing 
to  recognize  as  an  element  essential  to  the  success  of 
their  Schemes.  The  co-operative  institution  which  is 
governed  on  Parliamentary  principles,  with  unlimited  right 
of  debate  and*right  of  obstruction,  will  never  be  able  to 
compete  successfully  with  institutions  which  are  directed 
by  a  single  brain  wielding  the  united  resources  of  a  dis- 
ciplined and  obedient  army  of  workers.  Hence,  to  make 
co-operation  a  success  you  must  superadd  to  the  principle 
of  consent  the  principle  of  authority ;  you  must  invest  m 
those  to  whom  you  entrust  the  management  of  your  co- 
operative establishment  the  same  liberty  of  action  that  is 
possessed  by  the  owner  of  works  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street.  There  is  no  delusion  more  common  among  men 
than  the  belief  that  liberty,  which  is  a  good  thing  in  itself, 
is  so  good  as  to  enable  those  who  possess  it  to  dispense 
with  all  other  good  things.     But  as  no  man  lives  by  bread 


286  iN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

alone,  neither  can  nations  or  factories  or  shipyards  exist 
solely  upon  unlimited  freedom  to  have  their  own  way. 
In  co-operation  we  stand  pretty  much  where  the  French 
nation  stood  immediately  after  the  outburst  of  the 
Revolution.  In  the  enthusiasm  of  the  proclamation  of 
the  rights  of  man,  and  the  repudiation  of  the  rotten  and 
effete  regijiie  of  the  Bourbons,  the  French  peasants  and 
workmen  imagined  that  they  were  inaugurating  the  millen- 
nium when  they  scrawled  Liberty,  Equality,  and  Frater- 
nity across  all  the  churches  in  every  city  of  France.  They 
carried  their  principles  of  freedom  and  license  to  the  logical 
ultimate,  and  attempted  to  manage  their  army  on  Parlia- 
mentary principles.  It  did  not  work ;  their  undisciplined 
levies  were  driven  back  ;  disorder  reigned  in  the  Repub- 
lican camp ;  and  the  French  Revolution  would  have  been 
stifled  in  its  cradle  had  not  the  instinct  of  the  nation 
discerned  in  time  the  weak  point  in  its  armor.  Menaced 
by  foreign  wars  and  intestine  revolt,  the  Republic  estab- 
lished an  iron  discipline  in  its  army,  and  enforced  obedience 
by  the  summary  process  of  military  execution.  The 
liberty  and  the  enthusiasm  developed  by  the  outburst  of 
the  long  pent-up  revolutionary  forces  supplied  the  motive 
power,  but  it  was  the  discipline  of  the'  revolutionary 
armies,  the  stern,  unbending  obedience  which  was 
enforced  in  all  ranks  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest, 
which  created  for  Napoleon  the  admirable  military  instru- 
ment by  which  he  shattered  every  throne  in  Europe  and 
swept  in  triumph  from  Paris  to  Moscow. 

In  industrial  affairs  we  are  very  much  like  the  French 
Republic  before  it  tempered  its  doctrine  of  the  rights  of 
man  by  the  duty  of  obedience  on  the  part  of  the  soldier. 
We  have  got  to  introduce  discipline  into  the  industrial 
army,  we  have  to  superadd  the  principle  of  authority  to 
the  principle  of  co-operation,  and  so  to  enable  the  worker 
to  profit  to  the  full  by  the  increased  productiveness  of  the 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  387 

willing  labor  of  men  who  are  employed  in  their  own  work- 
shops and  on  their  own  property.  There  is  no  need  to 
clamor  for  great  schemes  of  State  Socialism.  The  whole 
thing  can  be  done  simply,  economically  and  speedily  if 
only  the  workers  will  practice  as  much  self-denial  for  the 
sake  of  establishing  themselves  as  capitalists,  as  the 
Soldiers  of  the  Salvation  Army  practice  every  year  in 
Self  Denial  Week.  What  is  the  sense  of  never  making  a 
levy  except  during  a  strike?  Instead  of  calling  for  a 
shilling,  or  two  shillings  a  week  in  order  to  maintain  men 
who  are  starving  in  idleness  because  of  a  dispute  with 
their  masters,  why  should  there  not  be  a  levy  kept  up  for 
weeks  or  months,  by  the  workers,  for  the  purpose  of 
setting  themselves  up  in  business  as  masters?  There 
would  then  be  no  longer  a  capitalist  owner  face  to  face 
with  the  masses  of  the  proletariat,  but  all  the  means  of 
production,  the  plant,  and  all  the  accumulated  resources 
of  capital  would  really  be  at  the  disposal  of  labor.  This 
will  never  be  done,  however,  as  long  as  co-operative 
experiments  are  carried  on  in  the  present  archaic  fashion. 

Believing  in  co-operation  as  the  ultimate  solution,  if  to 
co-operation  you  can  add  subordination,  I  am  disposed  to 
attempt  something  in  this  direction  in  my  new  Social 
Scheme.  I  shall  endeavor  to  start  a  Co-operative  Farm 
on  the  principles  of  Ralahine,  and  base  the  whole  of  my 
Farm  Colony  on  a  Co-operative  foundation. 

In  starting  this  little  Co-operative  commonwealth,  I  am 
reminded  by  those  who  are  always  at  a  man's  elbow  to 
fill  him  with  forebodings  of  ill,  to  look  at  the  failures, 
which  I  have  just  referred  to,  which  make  up  the  history 
of  the  attempt  to  realize  ideal  commonwealths  in  this 
practical  workaday  world.  Now,  I  have  read  the  history 
of  the  many  attempts  at  co-operation  that  have  been 
made  to  form  communistic  settlements  in  the  United 
States,  and  am  perfectly  familiar  with   the   sorrowful  fate 


388  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

with  which  nearly  all  have  been  overtaken ;  the  story  of 
their  failures  does  not  deter  me  in  the  least,  for  I  regard 
them  as  nothing  more  than  warnings  to  avoid  certain  mis- 
takes, beacons  to  illustrate  the  need  of  proceeding  on  a  differ- 
ent track.  Broadly  speaking,  your  experimental  communi- 
ties fail  because  your  Utopias  all  start  upon  the  system  of 
equality  and  government  by  vote  of  the  majority,  and,  as 
a  necessary  and  unavoidable  consequence,  your  Utopias 
get  to  loggerheads,  and  Utopia  goes  to  smash.  I  shall 
avoid  that  rock.  The  Farm  Colony,  like  all  the  other 
departments  of  the  Scheme,  will  be  governed,  not  on  the 
principle  of  counting  noses,  but  on  the  exactly  opposite 
principle  of  admitting  no  noses  into  the  concern  that  are 
not  willing  to  be  guided  by  the  directing  brain.  It  will 
be  managed  on  principles  which  assert  that  the  fittest 
ought  to  rule,  and  it  will  provide  for  the  fittest  being 
selected,  and  having  got  them  at  the  top,  will  insist  on 
universal  and  unquestioning  obedience  from  those  at  the 
bottom.  If  any  one  does  not  like  to  work  for  his  rations 
and  submit  to  the  orders  of  his  superior  Officers  he  can 
leave.  There  is  no  compulsion  on  him  to  stay.  The 
world  is  wide,  and  outside  the  confines  of  our  Colony  and 
the  operations  of  our  Corps  my  authority  does  not  extend. 
But  judging  from  our  brief  experience  it  is  not  from 
revolt  against  authority  that  the  Scheme  is  destined  to  fail. 
There  cannot  be  a  greater  mistake  in  this  world  than  to 
imagine  that  men  object  to  be  governed.  They  like  to  be 
governed,  provided  that  the  governor  has  his  "head  screwed 
on  right"  and  that  he  is  prompt  to  hear  and  ready  to  see 
and  recognize  all  that  is  vital  to  the  interests  of  the  com- 
monwealth. So  far  from  there  being  an  innate  objection  on 
the  part  of  mankind  to  being  governed,  the  instinct  to 
obey  is  so  universal  that  even  when  governments  have  gone 
blind,  and  deaf,  and  paralytic,  rotten  with  corruption  and 
hopelessly  behind  the  times,  they  still  contrive  to  live  on. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  289 

Against  a  capable  Government  no  people  ever  rebel,  only 
when  stupidity  and  incapacity  have  taken  possession  of 
the  seat  of  power  do  insurrections  break  out. 

Section  7. —  A  Matrimonial  Bureau. 

There  is  another  direction  in  which  something  ought  to 
be  done  to  restore  the  natural  advantages  enjoyed  by  every 
rural  community  which  have  been  destroyed  by  the  increas- 
ing tendency  of  mankind  to  come  together  in  huge  masses. 
I  refer  to  that  which  is  after  all  one  of  the  most  important 
elements  in  every  human  life,  that  of  marrying  and  giving 
in  marriage.  In  the  natural  life  of  a  country  village  all  the 
lads  and  lasses  grow  up  together,  they  meet  together  in 
religious  associations,  in  daily  employments,  and  in  their 
amusements  on  the  village  green.  They  have  learned  their 
A,  B,  C  and  pothooks  together,  and  when  the  time  comes 
for  pairing  off  they  have  had  excellent  opportunities  of 
knowing  the  qualities  and  the  defects  of  those  whom  they 
select  as  their  partners  in  life.  Everything  in  such  a  com- 
munity lends  itself  naturally  to  the  indispensable  prelimi- 
naries of  love-making  and  courtships,  which,  however 
much  they  may  be  laughed  at,  contribute  more  than 
most  things  to  the  happiness  of  life.  But  in  a  great 
city  all  this  is  destroyed.  In  London  at  the  present 
moment  how  many  hundreds,  nay,  thousands,  of  young 
men  and  young  women,  who  are  living  in  lodgings,  are 
practically  without  any  opportunity  of  making  the  acquain- 
tance of  each  other,  or  of  any  one  of  the  other  sex !  The 
street  is  no  doubt  the  city  substitute  for  the  village  green, 
and  what  a  substitute  it  is  ! 

It  has  been  bitterly  said  by  one  who  knew  well  what  he 
was  talking  about,  '^  There  are  thousands  of  young  men 
to-day  who  have  no  right  to  call  any  woman  by  her  Chris- 
tian name,  except  the  girls  they  meet  plying  their  dreadful 
trade  in  our  public  thoroughfares."  As  long  as  that  is  the 
^9 


390  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

case,  vice  has  an  enormous  advantage  over  virtue;  such  an 
abnormal  social  arrangement  interdicts  morality  and  places 
a  vast  premium  upon  prostitution.  We  must  get  back  to 
nature  if  we  have  to  cope  with  this  ghastly  evil. 

There  ought  to  be  more  opportunities  afforded  for  nealthy 
human  intercourse  between  young  men  and  young  women, 
nor  can  Society  rid  itself  of  a  great  responsibility  for  all  the 
wrecks  of  manhood  and  womanhood  with  which  our  streets 
are  strewn,  unless  it  does  make  some  attempt  to  bridge  this 
hideous  chasm  which  yawns  between  the  two  halves  of 
humanity.  The  older  I  grow  the  more  absolutely  am  I 
opposed  to  anything  that  violates  the  fundamental  law  of 
the  family.  Humanity  is  composed  of  two  sexes,  and  woe 
be  to  those  who  attempt  to  separate  them  into  distinct 
bodies,  making  of  each  half,  one  whole  !  It  has  been  tried 
in  monasteries  and  convents  with  but  poor  success,  yet 
what  our  fervent  Protestants  do  not  seem  to  see  is  that  we 
are  reconstructing  a  similar  false  system  for  our  young  peo- 
ple without  the  safeguards  and  the  restraints  of  convent 
walls  or  the  sanctifying  influence  of  religious  conviction. 
The  conditions  of  City  life,  the  absence  of  the  enforced 
companionship  of  the  village  and  small  town,  the  difficulty 
of  young  people  finding  harmless  opportunities  of  friendly 
intercourse,  all  tends  to  create  classes  of  celibates  who  are 
not  chaste,  and  whose  irregular  and  lawless  indulgence  of  a 
universal  instinct  is  one  of  the  most  melancholy  features  of 
the  present  state  of  society.  Nay,  so  generally  is  this  rec- 
ognized, that  one  of  the  terms  by  which  one  of  the  conse- 
quences of  this  unnatural  state  of  things  is  popularly  known 
is  ''the  social  evil,"  as  if  all  other  social  evils  were  com- 
paratively unworthy  of  notice  in  comparison  to  this. 

While  I  have  been  busily  occupied  in  working  out  my 
Scheme  for  the  registration  of  labor,  it  has  occurred  to  me 
more  than  once,  why  could  not  something  like  the  same 
plan  be  adopted  in  relation  to  men  who  want  wives  and 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  291 

women  who  want  husbands  ?  Marriage  is  with  most  people 
largely  a  matter  of  opportunity  Many  a  man  and  many  a 
woman,  who  would,  if  they  had  come  together,  have  formed 
a  happy  household,  are  leading  at  this  moment  miserable 
and  solitary  lives,  suffering  in  body  and  in  soul,  in  conse- 
quence of  their  exclusion  from  the  natural  state  of  matri- 
mony. Of  course,  the  registration  of  the  unmarried  who 
wish  to  marry  would  be  a  matter  of  much  greater  delicacy 
than  the  registration  of  the  joiners  and  stone-masons  who 
wish  to  obtain  work.  But  the  thing  is  not  impossible.  I 
have  repeatedly  found  in  my  experience  that  many  a  man 
and  many  a  woman  would  only  be  too  glad  to  have  a  friend- 
ly hint  as  to  where  they  might  prosecute  their  attentions  or 
from  which  they  might  receive  proposals. 

In  connection  with  such  an  agency,  if  it  were  established 
— for  I  am  not  engaging  to  undertake  this  task — I  am  only 
throwing  out  a  possible  suggestion  as  to  the  development 
in  the  direction  of  meeting  a  much  needed  want,  there 
might  be  added  training  homes  for  matrimony.  My  heart 
bleeds  for  many  a  young  couple  whom  I  see  launching  out  in- 
to the  sea  of  matrimony  with  no  housewifery  experience. 
The  young  girls  who  leave  our  public  elementary  schools  and 
go  out  into  factories  have  never  been  trained  to  home  duties, 
and  yet,  when  taken  to  wife,  are  unreasonably  expected  to  fil 
worthily  the  difficult  positions  of  the  head  of  a  household 
and  the  mother  of  a  family.  A  month  spent  before  mar- 
riage in  a  training  home  of  housewifery  would  conduce 
much  more  to  the  happiness  of  the  married  life  than  the 
honeymoon  which  immediately  follows  it. 

Especially  is  this  the  case  with  those  who  marry  to  go 
abroad  and  settle  in  a  distant  country.  I  often  marvel 
when  I  think  of  the  utter  helplessness  of  the  modern 
woman,  compared  with  the  handiness  of  her  grandmother. 
How  many  of  our  girls  can  even  bake  a  loaf  ?  The  baker 
has  killed  out  one  of  our  fundamental  domestic  arts.     But 


292  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

if  you  are  in  the  Backwoods  or  in  the  Prairie  or  in  the  Bush, 
no  baker's  eart  comes  round  every  morning  with  the  new- 
made  bread,  and  I  have  often  thought  with  sorrow  of  the 
kind  of  stuff  which  this  poor  wife  must  serve  up  to  her 
hungry  husband.  As  it  is  with  baking,  so  it  is  with  wash- 
ing, with  milking,  with  spinning,  with  all  the  arts  and  sci- 
ences of  the  household,  which  were  formerly  taught,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  to  all  the  daughters  who  were  born  in  the 
world.  Talk  about  woman's  rights,  one  of  the  first  of 
woman's  rights  is  to  be  trained  to  her  trade,  to  be  queen  of 
of  her  household,  and  mother  of  her  children. 

Speaking  of  colonists  leads  me  to  the  suggestion 
whether  something  could  not  be  done  to  supply,  on  a  well 
organized  system,  the  thousands  of  bachelor  miners  or  the 
vast  host  of  unmarried  males  who  are  struggling  with  the 
wilderness  on  the  outskirts  of  civilization,  with  capable 
wives  from  the  overplus  of  marriageable  females  who  abound 
in  our  great  towns  Woman  supplied  in  adequate  quanti- 
ties is  the  great  moralizer  of  Society,  but  woman  doled  out  as 
she  is  in  the  Far  West  and  the  Australian  bush,  in  the  propor- 
tion of  one  woman  to  about  a  dozen  men,  is  a  fertile  source 
of  vice  and  crime.  Here  again  we  must  get  back  to  nature, 
whose  fundamental  laws  our  social  arrangements  have  rude- 
ly set  on  one  side  with  consequences  which  as  usual  she 
does  not  fail  to  exact  with  remorseless  severity.  There 
have  always  been  born  into  the  world  and  continue  to  be 
born  boys  and  girls  in  fairly  equal  proportions,  but  with 
colonizing  and  soldiering  our  men  go  away,  leaving  behind 
them  a  continually  growing  surplus  of  marriageable  but  un- 
married spinsters,  who  cannot  spin,  and  who  are  utterly 
unable  to  find  themselves  husbands.  This  is  a  wide  field 
on  the  discussion  of  which  I  must  not  enter.  I  merely  indi- 
cate it  as  one  of  those  departments  in  which  an  intelligent 
philanthrophy  might  find  a  great  sphere  for  its  endeavors 
but  it  would  be   better  not  to  touch  it   at  all   than  to  deal 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  293 

With  it  with  light-hearted  precipitancy  and  without  due 
consideration  of  all  the  difficulties  and  dangers  connected 
therewith.  Obstacles,  however,  exist  to  be  overcome  and 
converted  into  victories.  There  is  even  a  certain  fascina- 
tion about  the  difficult  and  dangerous,  which  appeals  very 
strongly  to  all  who  know  that  it  is  the  apparently  insolvable 
difficulty  which  contains  within  its  bosom  the  key  to  the 
problem  which  you  are  seeking  to  solve. 

Section  8.  — Whitechapel-By-The-Sea. 

In  considering  the  various  means  by  which  some  substan- 
tial improvement  can  be  made  in  the  condition  of  the  toil- 
ing masses,  recreation  cannot  be  omitted.  I  have  repeat- 
edly had  forced  upon  me  the  disirability  of  making  it  pos- 
sible for  them  to  spend  a  few  hours  occasionally  by  the  sea- 
side, or  even  at  times  three  or  four  days.  Notwithstanding 
the  cheapened  rates  and  frequent  excursions,  there  are 
multitudes  of  the  poor  who,  year  in  and  out,  never  get 
beyond  the  crowded  city,  with  the  exception  of  dragging 
themselves  and  their  children  now  and  then  to  the  parks  on 
holidays  or  hot  summer  evenings.  The  majority,  especially 
the  inhabitants  of  the  East  of  London,  never  get  away  from 
the  sunless  alleys  and  grimy  streets  in  which  they  exist  from 
year  to  year.  It  is  true  that  a  few  here  and  there  of  the 
adult  population,  and  a  good  many  of  the  children,  have  a 
sort  of  annual  charity  excursion  to  Epping  Forest,  Hamp- 
ton Court,  or  perhaps  to  the  sea.  But  it  is  only  the  min- 
ority. The  vast  number,  while  possessed  of  a  passionate 
love  of  the  sea,  which  only  those  who  have  mixed  with  them 
can  conceive,  pass  their  whole  lives  without  having  once 
looked  over  its  blue  waters,  or  watched  its  waves  breaking 
at  their  feet. 

Now  I  am  not  so  foolish  as  to  dream  that  it  is  possible  to 
make  any  such  change  in  Society  as  will  enable  the  poor 
man  to  take  his  wife  and  children  for  a  fortnight's  sojourn, 


294  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

during  the  oppressive  summer  days,  to  brace  them  up  for 
their  winter's  task,  although  this  might  be  as  desirable  in 
their  case  as  in  that  of  their  more  highly  favored  fellow- 
creatures.  But  I  would  make  it  possible  for  every  man, 
woman  and  child,  to  get,  now  and  then,  a  day's  refreshing 
change  by  a  visit  to  that  never-failing  source  of  interest. 

In  the  carrying  out  of  this  plan,  we  are  met  at  the  outset 
with  a  difficulty  of  some  little  magnitude,  and  that  is  the 
necessity  of  a  vastly  reduced  charge  in  the  cost  of  the  journey. 
To  do  anything  effective  we  must  be  able  to  get  a  man  from 
Whitechapel  or  Stratford  to  the  sea-side  and  back  for  a 
shilling. 

Unfortunately,  London  is  sixty  miles  from  the  sea.  Sup- 
pose we  take  it  at  seventy  miles.  This  would  involve  a 
journey  of  one  hundred  and  forty  miles  for  the  small  sum  of  is. 
Can  this  be  done?  I  think  it  can,  and  done  to  pay  the  rail- 
way companies;  otherwise  there  is  no  ground  to  hope  for 
this  part  of  my  Scheme  ever  being  realized.  But  I  think 
that  this  great  boon  can  be  granted  to  the  poor  people  with- 
out the  dividends  being  sensibly  affected.  I  am  told  that 
the  cost  of  haulage  for  an  ordinary  passenger  train,  carrying 
from  five  hundred  to  a  thousand  persons,  is  2s.  yd.  per  mile; 
a  railway  company  could  take  six  hundred  passengers 
seventy  miles  there,  and  bring  them  seventy  miles  back,  at 
a  cost  of  ;^i8  IS.  8d.  Six  hundred  passengers  at  a  shilling 
is  ;^30,  so  that  there  would  be  ^.  clear  profit  to  the  company 
of  nearly  JP^ii  on  the  haulage,  towards  the  payment  of  inter- 
est on  the  the  capital,  wear  and  tear  of  line,  etc.  But  I  reck- 
on, at  a  very  moderate  computation,  that  two  hundred 
thousand  persons  would  travel  to  and  fro  every  season.  An 
addition  of  ;!^io,ooo  to  the  exchequer  of  a  railway  company 
is  not  to  be  despised,  and  this  would  be  a  mere  bagatelle  to 
the  indirect  profits  which  would  follow  the  establishment  of 
a  settlement  which  must  in  due  course  necessarily  become 
yery  speedily  a  large  and  active  community. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  295 

This  It  would  be  necessary  to  bring  home  to  the  railway- 
companies,  and  for  the  execution  of  this  part  of  my  Scheme 
I  must  wait  till  I  get  some  manager  sufficiently  public- 
spirited  to  try  the  experiment.  When  such  a  man  is  found, 
I  purpose  to  set  at  once  about  my  Sea-Side  Establishment. 
This  will  present  the  following  special  advantages,  which  I 
am  quite  certain  will  be  duly  appreciated  by  the  very  poor- 
est of  the  London  population: — 

An  estate  of  some  three  hundred  acres  would  be  purchased 
on  which  buildings  would  be  erected,  calculated  to  meet  the 
wants  of  this  class  of  excursionists. 

Refreshments  would  be  provided  at  rates  very  similar  to 
those  charged  at  our  London  Food  Depots.  There  would, 
of  course,  be  greater  facilities  in  the  way  of  rooms  and 
accommodation  generally. 

Lodgings  for  invalids,  children  and  those  requiring  to 
make  a  short  stay  in  the  place  would  be  supplied  at  the 
lowest  prices.  Beds  for  single  men  and  single  women 
could  be  charged  at  the  low  rate  of  sixpence  a  night,  and 
children  in  proportion,  while  accommodation  of  a  suitable 
character,  on  very  moderate  terms,  could  be  arranged  for 
married  people. 

No  public-houses  would  be  allowed  within  the  precincts 
of  the  settlement. 

A  park,  playground,  music,  boats,  covered  conveniences 
for  bathing,  without  the  expense  of  hiring  a  machine,  and 
other  arrangements  for  the  comfort  and  enjoyment  of  the 
people  would  be  provided. 

The  estate  would  form  one  of  the  Colonies  of  the  general 
enterprise,  and  on  it  would  be  grown  fruit,  vegetables, 
flowers,  and  other  produce  for  the  use  of  the  visitors,  and 
sold  at  the  lowest  remunerative  rates.  One  of  the  first 
provisions  for  the  comfort  of  the  excursionists  would  be  the 
erection  of  a  large  hall,  affording  ample  shelter  in  case 
pf  unfavorable  weather,   and  in  this  and  other  parts  of  the 


296  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

place  there  would  be  the  fullest  opportunity  for  ministers 
ci  all  denominations  to  hold  religious  services  in  connec- 
tion with  any  excursionists  they  might  bring  with  them. 

There  would  be  shops  for  tradesmen,  houses  for  residents, 
a  museum  with  a  panorama  and  stuffed  whale;  boats  would 
be  let  out  at  moderate  prices,  and  a  steamer  to  carry  people 
so  many  miles  out  to  sea,  and  so  manjr  miles  back  for  a 
penny,  with  a  possible  bout  of  sickness,  for  which  no  extra 
charge  would  be  made. 

In  fact  the  railway  fares  and  refreshment  arrangements 
would  be  on  such  a  scale,  that  a  husband  and  wife  could 
have  a  70-mile  ride  through  the  green  fields,  the  new-mown 
hay,  the  waving  grain  or  fruit  laden  orchards;  could  wander 
for  hours  on  the  seashore,  have  comforting  and  nourishing 
refreshment,  and  be  landed  back  at  home,  sober,  cheered 
and  invigorated  for  the  small  sum  of  3s.  A  couple  of 
children  under  12  might  be  added  at  is.  6d, — nay  a  whole 
family,  husband,  wife  and  four  children,  supposing  one 
is  in  arms,  could  have  a  day  at  the  seaside,  without  obliga- 
tion or  charity,  for  5s. 

The  gaunt,  hungry  inhabitants  of  the  Slums  would  save 
up  their  halfpence,  and  come  by  thousands;  clergymen 
would  find  it  possible  to  bring  half  the  poor  and  needy  oc- 
cupants of  their  j)arishes;  schools,  mothers'  meetings,  and 
philanthrophic  societies  of  all  descriptions  would  come  down 
wholesale;  in  short,  what  Brighton  is  to  the  West  End  and 
middle  classes,  this  place  would  be  to  the  East  End  poor, 
nay,  to  the  poor  of  the  Metropolis  generally,  a  White- 
chapel-by-the-Sea. 

Now  this  ought  to  be  done  apart  from  my  Scheme  al 
together.  The  rich  corporations  which  have  the  charge  of 
the  affairs  of  this  great  City,  and  the  millionaires,  who 
would  never  have  amassed  their  fortunes  but  by  the  assist- 
ance of  the  masses,  ought  to  say  it  shall  be  done.  Suppose 
the  Railroad  Companies  refused  to  lend  the  great  highways, 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  297 

of  which  they  have  become  the  monopolists,  for  such  an 
undertaking  without  a  subvention,  then  the  necessary  sub- 
vention should  be  forthcoming.  If  it  could  be  made  possi- 
ble for  the  joyless  toilers  to  come  out  of  the  sweater's  den, 
or  the  stifling  factory;  if  the  seamstress  could  leave  her 
needle,  and  the  mother  get  away  from  the  weary  round  of 
babydom  and  household  drudgery  for  a  day  now  and  then, 
to  the  cooling,  invigorating,  heart-stirring  influences  of  the 
sea,  it  should  be  done,  even  if  it  did  cost  a  few  paltry 
thousands.  Let  the  men  and  woman  who  spend  a  little 
fortune  every  year  in  Continental  tours,  Alpine  climbings, 
yacht  excursions,  and  many  another  form  of  luxurious 
wanderings,  come  forward  and  say  that  it  shall  be  possible 
for  these  crowds  of  thuir  less  fortunate  brethren  to  have  the 
opportunity  of  spending  one  day  at  least  in  the  year  by  the 
sea. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Can  it  be  Done  and   How? 
Section  i. — The  Credentials  of  the  Salvation   Army. 

Can  this  great  work  be  done  ?  I  believe  it  can.  And  I 
believe  that  it  can  be  done  by  the  Salvation  Army,  because 
it  has  ready  to  hand  an  organization  of  men  and  women, 
numerous  enough  and  zealous  enough  to  grapple  with  the 
enormous  undertakmg.  The  work  may  prove  beyond  our 
powers.  But  this  is  not  so  manifest  as  to  preclude  us  from 
wishing  to  make  the  attempt.  That  in  itself  is  a  qualifica- 
tion which  is  shared  by  no  other  organization — at  present. 
If  we  can  do  it  we  have  the  field  entirely  to  ourselves.  The 
wealthy  churches  show  no  inclination  to  compete  for  the 
onerous  privilege  of  making  the  experiment  in  this  definite 
and  practical  form.  Whether  we  have  the  power  or  not,  we 
have,  at  least,  the  will,  the  ambition  to  do  this  great  thing 
for  the  sake  of  our  brethren,  and  therein  lies  our  first  cre- 
dential for  being  entrusted  with  the  enterprise. 

The  second  credential  is  the  fact  that,  while  using  all 
material  means,  our  reliance  is  on  the  co-working  power  of 
God.  We  keep  our  powder  dry,  but  we  trust  in  Jehovah 
We  go  not  forth  in  our  own  strength  to  this  battle,  our  de- 
pendence is  upon  Him  who  can  influence  the  heart  of  man. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  the  most  satisfactory  method  of  rais- 
ing a  man  must  be  to  effect  such  a  change  in  his  views  and. 

298 


IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND  299 

feelings  that  he  shall  voluntarily  abandon  his  evil  ways,  give 
himself  to  industry  and  goodness  in  the  midst  of  the  very 
temptations  and  companionships  that  before  led  him  astray, 
and  live  a  Christian  life,  an  example  in  himself  of  what  can 
be  done  by  the  power  of  God  in  the  very  face  of  the  most 
impossible  circumstances. 

But  herein  lies  the  great  difficulty  again  and  again  re- 
ferred to,  men  have  not  that  force  of  character  which  will 
constrain  them  to  avail  themselves  of  the  methods  of  deliv- 
erance. Now  our  scheme  is  based  on  the  necessity  of  help- 
ing such. 

Our  third  credential  is  the  fact  that  we  have  already  out 
of  practically  nothing  achieved  so  great  a  measure  of  suc- 
cess that  we  think  we  may  reasonably  be  entrusted  with 
this  further  duty.  The  ordinary  operations  of  the  Army 
have  already  effected  most  wonderful  changes  in  the  condi- 
tions of  the  poorest  and  worst.  Multitudes  of  slaves  of  vice 
in  every  form  have  been  delivered  not  only  from  these  hab- 
its, but  from  the  destitution  and  misery  which  they  ever  pro- 
duce. Instances  have  been  given.  Any  number  more  can 
be  produced.  Our  experience,  which  has  been  almost 
world-wide,  has  ever  shown  that  not  only  does  the  criminal 
become  honest,  the  drunkard  sober,  the  harlot  chaste,  but 
that  poverty  of  the  most  abject  and  helpless  type  vanishes 
away. 

Our  fourth  credential  is  that  our  Organization  alone  of 
England's  religious  bodies  is  founded  upon  the  principle  of 
implicit  obedience. 

For  Discipline  I  can  ;^.:aswer.  The  Salvation  Army, largely 
recruited  from  among  'zh.®  poorest  of  the  poor,  is  often  re- 
proached by  its  enemies  on  account  of  the  severity  of  its 
rule.  It  is  the  only  religious  body  founded  in  our  time  that 
is  based  upon  the  principle  of  voluntary  subjection  to  an 
absolute  authority.  No  one  is  bound  to  remain  in  the  Ar. 
my  a  day  longer  than  he  pleases.     While  he  remains  there 


300  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

he  is  bound  by  the  conditions  of  the  Service.  The  first  con- 
dition of  that  Service  is  implicit,  unquestioning  obedience. 
The  Salvationist  is  taught  to  obey  as  is  the  soldier  on  the 
field  of  battle 

From  the  time  when  the  Salvation  Army  began  to  ac- 
quire strength  and  to  grow  from  the  grain  of  mustard  seed 
until  now,  when  its  branches  overshadow  the  whole  earth, 
we  have  been  constantly  warned  against  the  evils  which  this 
autocratic  system  would  entail.  Especially  were  we  told  that 
in  a  democratic  age  the  people  would  never  stand  the  estab- 
lishment of  what  was  described  as  a  spiritual  despotism. 
It  was  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the  times,  it  would  be  a  stone 
of  stumbling  and  a  rock  of  offence  to  the  masses  to  whom 
we  appeal,  and  so  forth  and  so  forth 

But  what  has  been  the  answer  of  accomplished  facts  to 
these  predictions  ot  theorists?  Despite  the  alleged  unpop- 
ularity of  our  discipline,  perhaps  because  of  the  rigor  of 
military  authority  upon  which  we  have  insisted,  the  Salva- 
tion Army  has  grown  from  year  to  year  with  a  rapidity  to 
which  nothing  in  modern  Christendom  affords  any  parallel 
It  is  only  twenty-five  years  since  it  was  born.  It  is  now 
the  largest  Home  and  Foreign  Missionary  Society  in  the 
Protestant  world.  We  have  nearly  10,000  officers  under 
our  orders,  a  number  increasing  every  day,  every  one  of 
whom  has  taken  service  on  the  express  condition  that  he  or 
she  will  obey  without  questioning  or  gainsaying  the  orders 
from  Headquarters.  Of  these  4,600  are  in  Great  Britain 
The  greatest  number  outside  these  islands,  in  any  one 
country,  are  in  the  American  Republic,  where  we  have 
1,018  officers,  and  democratic  Australia,  where  we  have 
800. 

Nor  IS  the  submission  to  our  discipline  a  mere  paper 
loyalty.  These  officers  are  in  the  field,  constantly  exposed 
to  privation  and  ill-treatment  of  all  kinds.  A  telegram 
from    me  will   send  any  of  them  to  the   uttermost   parts 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  801 

of  the  earth,  will  transfer  them  from  the  Slums  of  London 
to  San  Francisco,  or  despatch  them  to  assist  in  opening 
missions  in  Holland,  Zululand,  Sweden,  or  South  Am c-rica. 
So  far  from  resenting  the  exercise  of  authority,  the  Salvation 
Army  rejoices  to'  recognize  it  as  one  great  secret  of  its  suc- 
cess, a  pillar  of  strength  upon  which  all  its  soldiers  can  rely, 
a  principle  which  stamps  it  as  being  different  from  all  other 
religious  organizations  founded  in  our  day. 

With  ten  thousand  officers,  trained  to  obey,  and  trained 
equally  to  command,  I  do  not  feel  that  the  organization 
even  of  the  disorganized,  sweated,  hopeless,  drink-sodden 
denizens  of  darkest  England  is  impossible.  It  is  possi- 
ble, because  it  has  already  been  accomplished  in  the  case 
of  thousands  who,  before  they  were  saved,  were  even  such 
as  those  whose  evil  lot  we  are  now  attempting  to  deal  with. 

Our  fifth  credential  is  the  extent  and  universality  of  the 
Army.  What  a  mighty  agency  for  working  out  the  Scheme 
is  found  in  the  Army  in  this  respect.  This  will  be  apparent 
when  we  consider  that  it  has  already  stretched  itself  through 
over  thirty  different  Countries  and  Colonies,  with  a  perma- 
nent location  in  something  like  4,000  different  places,  that 
it  has  either  soldiers  or  friends  sufficiently  in  sympathy  with 
it  to  render  assistance  in  almost  every  considerable  popu- 
lation in  the  civilized  world,  and  in  much  of  the  uncivilized, 
that  it  has  nearly  10,000  separated  officers  whose  training 
and  leisure  and  history  qualify  them  to  become  its  enthusi- 
astic and  earnest  co-workers.  In  fact,  our  whole  people 
will  hail  it  as  the  missing  link  in  the  great  scheme  for  the 
regeneration  of  mankind,  enabling  them  to  act  out  those  im- 
pulses of  their  hearts  which  are  ever  prompting  them  to  do 
good  to  the  bodies  as  well  as  to  the  souls  of  men. 

Take  the  meetings.  With  few  exceptions,  every  one  of 
these  four  thousand  centres  has  a  Hall  in  which,  on  every 
evening  in  the  week  and  from  early  morning  until  nearly 
midnight  on  every  Sabbath,    services  are  being  held;  that 


303  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

nearly  every  service  held  indoors  is  preceded  by  one  out  of 
doors,  the  special  purport  of  every  one  being  the  saving  of 
these  wretched  crowds.  Indeed,  when  this  Scheme  is  per- 
fected and  fairly  at  work,  every  meeting  and  every  proces- 
sion will  be  looked  upon  as  an  advertisement  of  the  earthly 
as  well  as  the  heavenly  conditions  of  happiness.  And  every 
Barracks  and  Officer's  quarters  will  become  a  centre  where 
poor  sinful,  suffering  men  and  women  may  find  sympathy, 
counsel  and  practical  assistance  in  every  sorrow  that  can 
possibly  come  upon  them,  and  ev^ery  Officer  throughout  our 
ranks  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe  will  become  a  co-worker. 

See  how  useful  our  people  will  be  in  the  gathering  of 
this  class.  They  are  in  touch  with  them.  They  live  in  the 
same  street,  work  in  the  same  shops  and  factories,  and 
come  in  contact  with  them  at  every  turn  and  corner  of  life. 
If  they  don't  live  amongst  them,  they  formerly  did.  They 
know  where  to  find  them;  they  are  their  old  chums,  pot- 
house companions,  and  pals  in  crime  and  mischief.  This 
class  is  the  perpetual  difficulty  of  a  Salvationist's  life.  He 
feels  that  there  is  no  help  for  them  in  the  conditions  in 
which  they  are  at  present  found.  They  are  so  hopelessly 
weak,  and  their  temptations  are  so  terribly  strong,  that  they 
go  down  before  them.  The  Salvationist  feels  this  when  he 
attacks  them  in  the  tap-rooms,  in  the  low  lodging  houses, 
or  in  their  own  desolate  homes.  Hence,  with  many,  the 
Crusader  has  lost  all  heart.  He  has  tried  them  so  often. 
But  this  Scheme  of  taking  them  right  away  from  their  old 
haunts  and  temptations  will  put  new  life  into  him  and  he 
will  gather  up  the  poor  social  wrecks  wholesale,  pass  them 
along,  and  then  go  and  hunt  for  more. 

Then  see  how  useful  this  army  of  officers   and  soldiers 
will  be  for  the  regeneration  of  this  festering  mass  of  vice  a 
crime  when  it  is,  so  to  speak,  in  our  possession. 

All  the  thousands  of  drunkards  and  harlots,  and  blasphe- 
mers and  idlers  have  to  be  made  over  again,  to  be  renewed 


AND  THE  WAY  OVf  3tJS 

in  the  spirit  of  their  minds,  that  is — made  good.  What  a 
host  of  moral  workers  will  be  required  to  accomplish  such 
a  gigantic  transformation.  In  the  Army  we  have  a  few 
thousands  ready,  anyway,  we  have  as  many  as  can  be  used 
at  the  outset,  and  the  Scheme  itself  will  go  on  manufactur- 
ing more.  Look  at  the  qualifications  of  these  warriors  for 
the  work. 

They  understand  their  pupils — having  been  dug  out  of 
the  same  pit.  Set  a  rogue  to  catch  a  rogue,  they  say, 
that  is,  we  suppose,  a  reformed  rogue.  Anyway,  it  is 
so  with  us.  These  rough-and-ready  warriors  will  work 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  them  in  the  same  manual 
employment.  They  will  engage  in  the  task  for  love.  This 
is  a  substantial  part  of  their  religion,  the  moving  instinct 
of  the  new  heavenly  nature  that  has  come  upon  them. 
They  want  to  spend  their  lives  in  doing  good.  Here 
will  be  an  opportunity. 

Then  see  how  useful  these  Soldiers  will  be  for  distribu- 
tion !  Every  Salvation  Officer  and  Soldier  in  every  one 
of  these  4,000  centres,  scattered  through  these  thirty  odd 
countries  and  colonies,  with  all  their  correspondents  and 
friends  and  comrades  living  elsewhere,  will  be  ever  on 
the  watch-tower  looking  out  for  homes  and  employments 
vhere  these  rescued  men  and  women  can  be  fixed  up  to 
advantage,  nursed  into  moral  vigor,  picked  up  again  on 
stumbling,  and  watched  over  generally  until  able  to 
travel  the  rough  and  slippery  paths  of  life  alone. 

I  am,  therefore,  not  without  warrant  for  my  confidence 
in  the  possibility  of  doing  great  things,  if  the  problem  so 
long  deemed  hopeless  be  approached  with  intelligence 
and  determination  on  a  scale  corresponding  to  the  magni- 
tude of  the  evil  with  which  we  have  to  cope. 

Section  2. — How  Much  Will  it  Cost? 

A  considerable  amount  of  money  will  be  required  to 
fairly  launch  this  Scheme,  and  some  income  may  be 
necessary  to  sustain  it  for  a  season,  but,  once  fairly  afloat, 


304  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

we  think  there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  in  all  its 
branches  it  will  be  self-supporting,  unless  its  area  of  opera- 
tion is  largely  extended,  on  which  we  fully  rely.  Of 
course  the  cost  of  the  effort  must  depend  very  much  upon 
its  magnitude.  If  anything  is  to  be  done  commensurate 
with  the  extent  of  the  evil,  it  will  necessarily  require  a 
proportionate  outlay.  If  it  is  only  the  drainage  of  a 
garden  that  is  undertaken,  a  few  pounds  will  meet  the 
cost,  but  if  it  is  a  great  dismal  swamp  of  many  miles  in 
area,  harboring  all  manner  of  vermin,  and  breeding  all 
kinds  of  deadly  malaria,  that  has  to  be  reclaimed  and  culti- 
vated, a  very  different  sum  will  not  only  be  found  neces- 
sary, but  be  deemed  an  economic  investment. 

Seeing  that  the  country  pays  out  something  like  Ten 
Millions  per  annum  in  Poor  Law  and  Charitable  Relief 
without  securing  any  real  abatement  of  the  evil,  I  cannot 
doubt  that  the  public  will  hasten  to  supply  one-tenth  of 
that  sum.  If  you  reckon  that  of  the  submerged  tenth  we 
have  one  million  to  deal  with,  this  will  only  be  one  pound 
per  head  for  each  of  those  whom  it  is  sought  to  benefit, 
or  say 

ONE   MILLION    STERLING 

to  give  the  present  Scheme  a  fair  chance  of  getting  into 
practical  operation. 

According  to  the  amount  furnished,  must  necessarily  be 
the  extent  of  our  operations.  We  have  carefully  calculated 
that  with  one  hundred  thousand  pounds  the  scheme  can 
be  successfully  set  in  motion,  and  that  it  can  be  kept 
going  on  an  annual  income  of  ;^3o,ooo  which  is  about 
there  and  a-quarter  per  cent,  on  the  balance  of  the  million 
sterling,  for  which  I  ask  as  an  earnest  that  the  public 
intend  to  put  its  hand  to  this  business  with  serious  resolu- 
tion ;  and  our  judgment  is  based,  not  on  any  mere 
imaginings,  but  upon  the  actual  result  of  the  experiments 
already  made.     Still  it  must  be  remembered  that   so   vast 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  305 

and  desirable  an  end  cannot  be   even   practically   contem- 
plated without  a  proportionate  financial  outlay. 

Supposing,  however,  by  the  subscription  of  this  amount 
the  undertaking  is  fairly  set  afloat.  The  question  may  be 
asked,  "What  further  funds  will  be  required  for  its  efficient 
maintenance?"  This  question  we  proceed  to  answer. 
Let  us  look  at  the  three  Colonies  apart,  and  then  at  some 
of  the  circumstances  which  apply  to  the  whole.  To 
begin  with,  there  is 

THE    FINANCIAL  ASPECT    OF  THE   CITY  COLONY. 

Here  there  will  be,  of  course,  a  considerable  outla}^ 
required  for  the  purchasing  and  fitting  up  of  property, 
the  acquisition  of  machinery,  furniture,  tools  and  the 
necessary  plant  for  carrying  forward  all  these  varied 
operations.  These  once  acquired,  no  further  outlay  will 
be  needed  except  for  the  necessary  reparations. 

The  Homes  for  the  Destitute  will  be  nearly  if  not  quite 
self-sustaining.  The  Superior  Homes  for  both  Single  and 
Married  people  will  not  only  pay  for  themselves  but  return 
some  interest  on  the  amount  invested  which  would  be 
devoted  to  the  furtherance  of  other  parts  of  the    Scheme. 

The  Refuges  for  Fallen  Girls  would  require  considerable 
funds  to  keep  them  going.  But  the  public  has  never  been 
slow  to  practically  express  its  sympathy  with  this  class  of 
work. 

The  Criminal  Homes  and  Prison  Gate  Operations  would 
require  continual  help  but  not  a  very  great  deal.  Then 
the  work  in  the  slums  is  somewhat  expensive.  The 
eighty  young  women  at  present  engaged  in  it  cost  on  an 
average  12s.  per  week  each  for  personal  maintenance  in- 
clusive of  clothes  and  other  little  matters  and  there  are 
expenses  for  Halls  and  some  little  relief  which  cannot  in 
any  way  be  avoided,  bringing  our  present  annual  Slum 
outlay  to  over  ;^4,ooo.  But  the  poor  people  amongst 
20 


306  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

whom  they  work  notwithstanding  their  extreme  poverty 
are  already  contributing  over  ;^i,ooo  per  annum  towards 
this  amount,  which  income  will  increase,  Still  as  by  this 
Scheme  we  propose  to  add  at  once  a  hundred  to  the 
number  already  engaged,  money  will  be  required  to  keep 
this  department  going. 

The  Inebriate  Home  I  calculate  will  maintain  itself. 
All  its  inmates  will  have  to  engage  in  some  kind  of 
remunerative  labor,  and  we  calculate,  in  addition,  upon 
receiving  money  with  a  considerable  number  of  those 
availing  themselves  of  its  benefits.  But  to  practically 
assist  the  half-million  slaves  of  the  cup  we  must  have 
money  not  only  to  launch  out  but  to  keep  our  operations 
going. 

The  Food  Depots,  once  fitted  up,  pay  their  own  working 
expenses. 

The  Emigration,  Advice,  and  Inquiry  Bureaus  must 
maintain  themselves  or  nearly  so. 

The  Labor  Shops,  Anti-Sweating,  and  other  similar 
operations  will,  without  question,  require  money  to  make 
ends  meet. 

But  on  the  whole,  a  very  small  sum  of  money,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  immense  amount  of  work  done,  will  enable  us 
to  accomplish  a  vast  deal  of  good, 

THE    FARM    COLONY    FROM    A    FINANCIAL    POINT    OF    VIEW. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  Farm  Colony,  and  consider  it 
from  a  monetary  standpoint.  Here  also  a  certain  amount 
of  money  will  have  to  be  expended  at  the  outset ,  some 
of  the  chief  items  of  which  will  be  the  purchase  of  land, 
the  erection  of  buildings,  the  supply  of  stock,  and  the 
production  of  first  crops.  There  is  an  abundance  of  land 
in  the  market,  at  the  present  time,  at  very  low  prices. 

It  is  rather  important  for  the  initial  experiment  that  an 
estate  should  be  obtained  not  too  far  from  London,  with 
land  suitable  for  ixomediate   cultivation.     Such   an   estate 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  307 

would  beyond  question  be  expensive.  After  a  time,  I 
have  no  doubt,  we  shall  be  able  to  deal  with  land  of 
almost  any  quality  (and  that  in  almost  any  part  of  the 
country),  in  consequence  of  the  superabundance  of  labor 
we  shall  possess.  There  is  no  question  if  the  scheme 
goes  forward,  but  that  estates  will  be  required  in  connec- 
tion with  all  our  large  towns  and  cities.  I  am  not  without 
hope  that  a  sufficient  quantity  of  land  will  be  given,  or, 
in  any  way,  sold  to  us  on  very  favorable  terms. 

When  acquired  and  stocked,  it  is  calculated  that  this 
land,  if  cultivated  by  spade  husbandry,  will  support  at 
least  two  persons  per  acre.  The  ordinary  reckoning  of 
those  who  have  had  experience  with  allotments  gives  five 
persons  to  three  acres.  But,  even  supposing  that  this 
calculation  is  a  little  too  sanguine,  we  can  still  reckon  a 
farm  of  500  acres  supporting,  without  any  outside  assist- 
ance, say  750  persons  But,  in  this  Scheme,  we  should 
have  many  advantages  not  possessed  by  the  simple  peasant, 
such  as  those  resulting  from  combination,  market  garden- 
ing, and  the  other  forms  of  cultivation  already  referred  to, 
and  thus  we  should  want  to  place  two  or  three  times  this 
number  on  that  quantity  of  land. 

By  a  combination  of  City  and  Town  Colonies,  there  will 
be  a  market  for  at  least  a  large  portion    of    the    products. 

At  the  rate  of  our  present  consumption  in  the  London 
Food  Depots  and  Homes  for  the  Destitute  alone,  at  least 
50  acres  would  be  required  for  potatoes  alone,  and  every 
additional  Colonist  would  be  an  additional  consumer. 

There  will  be  no  rent  to  pay,  as  it  is  proposed  to  buy 
the  land  right  out.  In  the  event  of  a  great  rush  being 
made  for  the  allotments  spoken  of,  further  land  might  be 
rented,  with  option  of  purchase. 

Of  course  the  continuous  change  of  laborers  would  tell 
against  the  profitableness  of  the  undertaking.  But  this 
would  be  proportionally  beneficial  to    the   country,  seeing 


308  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

that    everyone    who    passes  through   the   institution  with 
credit  makes  one  less  in  the  helpless  crowd. 

The  rent  of  Cottages  and  Allotments  would  constitute  a 
small  return,  and  at  least  pay  interest  on  the  money 
invested  in  them. 

The  labor  spent  upon  the  Colony  would  be  constantly 
increasing  its  money  value.  Cottages  would  be  built, 
orchards  planted,  land  enriched,  factories  run  up,  ware 
houses  erected,  while  other  improvements  would  be  con- 
tinually going  forward.  All  the  labor  and  a  large  part  of 
the  material  would  be  provided  by  the  Colonists  them- 
selves. 

It  may  be  suggested  that  the  workers  would  have  to  be 
maintained  during  the  progress  of  these  erections  and 
manufactures,  the  cost  of  which  would  in  itself  amount 
to  a  considerable  sum.  True,  and  for  this  the  first  outlay 
would  be  required.  But  after  this  every  cottage  erected, 
every  road  made,  in  short  every  structure  and  improve- 
ment, would  be  a  means  of  carrying  forward  the  regenerat- 
ing process,  and  in  many  cases  it  is  expected  will  become 
a  source  of  income. 

As  the  Scheme  progresses,  it  is  not  irrational  to  expect 
that  Government,  or  some  of  the  varied  Local  Authorities, 
will  assist  in  the  working  out  of  a  plan  which,  in  so 
marked  a  manner,  will  relieve  the  rates  and  taxes  of  the 
country. 

The  salaries  of  Officers  would  be  in  keeping  with  those 
given  in  the  Salvation  Army,  which  are  very  low. 

No  wages  would  be  paid  to  Colonists,  as  has  been 
described,  beyond  pocket  money  and  a  trifle  for  extra 
service. 

Although  no  permanent  invalid  would  be  knowingly 
taken  into  the  Colonies,  it  is  fair  to  assume  that  there  will 
be  a  certain  number,  and  also  a  considerable  residuum  of 
naturally   indolent,    half-witted   people,  incapable    of   im- 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  309 

provement,  left  upon  our  hands.  Still,  it  is  thought  that 
with  reformed  habits,  variety  of  employment,  and  careful 
oversight,  sach  may  be  made  to  earn  their  own  mainte- 
nance, at  least,  especially  when  it  is  borne  in  mind  that 
unless  they  work,  so  far  as  they  have  ability,  they  cannot 
remain  in  the  Colony. 

If  the  Household  Salvage  Scheme  which  has  been 
explained  in  Chapter  II  proves  the  success  we  anticipate 
there  can  be  no  question  that  great  financial  assistance 
will  be  rendered  by  it  to  the  entire  scheme  when  once  the 
whole  thing  has  been  brought  into  working  order. 

THE    FINANCIAL    ASPECT    OF    THE    OVER-SEA    COLONY. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  Over-Sea  Colony,  and  regard  it 
also  from  the  financial  standpoint.  Here  we  must  occupy 
ourselves  chiefly  with  the  preliminary  outlay,  as  we  could 
not  for  a  moment  contemplate  having  to  find  money  to 
assist  it  when  once  fairly  established.  The  initial  expense 
will,  no  doubt,  be  somewhat  heavy,  but  not  beyond  a 
reasonable  amount. 

The  land  required  would  probably  be  given,  whether  we 
go  to  Africa,  Canada,  or  elsewhere  ;  anyway,  it  would  be 
acquired  on  such  easy  terms  as  would  be  a  near  approach 
to  a  gift. 

A  considerable  sum  would  certainly  be  necessary  for 
effecting  the  first  settlements.  There  would  be  temporary 
buildings  to  erect,  land  to  break  up  and  crop ;  stock,  farm 
implements  and  furniture  to  purchase,  and  other  similar 
expenses.  But  this  would  not  be  undertaken  on  a  large 
scale,  as  we  should  rely,  to  some  extent,  on  the  succes- 
sive batches  of  Colonists  more  or  less  providing  for  them- 
selves, and  in  this  respect  working  out  their  own  salvation. 
The  amount  advanced  for  passages,  outfit  money  and 
settlement  would  be  repaid  by  instalments  by  the  Colo- 
nists, which  would  in  turn  serve  to  pay  the  cost  of  convey- 
ing others  to  the  same  destination. 


310  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Passage  and  outfit  money  would,  no  doubt,  continue  to 
be  some  difficulty.  ^£8  per  head,  say,  to  Africa — j£^ 
passage  money,  and  ;^3  for  the  journey  across  the  country 
— is  a  large  sum  when  a  considerable  number  are  involved  ; 
and  I  am  afraid  no  Colony  would  be  reached  at  a  much 
lower  rate.  But  I  am  not  without  hope  that  the  Govern- 
ment might  assist  us  in  this  direction. 

Taking  up  the  entire  question,  that  is,  of  the  three 
Colonies,  we  are  satisfied  that  the  sum  named  will  suffice 
to  set  to  work  an  agency  which  will  probably  rescue  from 
lives  of  degradation  and  immorality  an  immense  number 
of  people,  and  that  an  income  of  something  like  ^^30,000 
will  keep  it  afloat.  But  supposing  that  a  much  larger 
amount  should  be  required,  by  operations  greatly  in 
advance  of  those  here  spoken  of,  which  we  think  exceed- 
ingly probable,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  expect  that  it  will 
be  forthcoming,  seeing  that  caring  for  the  poor  is  not  only 
a  duty  of  universal  obligation  a  root  principle  of  all 
religion,  but  an  instinct  of  humanity  not  likely  to  be 
abolished  in  our  time.  We  are  not  opposed  to  charity 
as  such,  but  to  the  mode  of  its  administration,  which, 
instead  of  permanently  relieving,  only  demoralizes  and 
plunges  the  recipients  lower  in  the  mire,  and  so  defeats 
its  own  purpose. 

"What !  '  I  think  I  hear  some  say,  "a  million  sterling! 
how  can  any  man  out  of  Bedlam  dream  of  raising  such 
a  sum?"  Stop  a  little!  A  million  may  be  a  great  deal  to 
pay  for  a  diamond  or  a  palace,  but  it  is  a  mere  trifle  com- 
pared with  the  sums  which  Britain  lavishes  whenever 
Britons  are  in  need  of  deliverance  if  they  happen  to  be 
imprisoned  abroad.  The  King  of  Ashantee  had  captive 
some  British  subjects — not  even  of  English  birth — in  1869. 
John  Bull  despatched  General  Wolseley  with  the  pick  of 
the  British  army,  who  smashed  Koffee  Kalkallee,  liberated 
the    captives,  and    burnt    Coomassie,  and     never    winced 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  811 

when  the  bill  came  In  for  ^750,000.  But  that  was  a 
mere  trifle.  When  King  Theodore,  of  Abyssinia,  made 
captives  of  a  couple  of  British  representatives,  Lord 
Napier  VN^as  despatched  to  rescue.  He  marched  his  army 
to  Magdala,  brought  back  the  prisoners,  and  left  King 
Theodore  dead.  The  cost  of  that  expedition  was  over 
nine  millions  sterling.  The  Egyptian  Campaign,  that 
smashed  Arabi,  cost  nearly  five  millions.  The  rush  to 
Khartoum,  that  arrived  too  late  to  rescue  General  Gordon, 
cost  at  least  as  much.  The  Afghan  war  cost  twenty-one 
millions  sterling.  Who  dares  then  to  say  that  Britain 
cannot  provide  a  million  sterling  to  rescue  not  one  or  two 
captives,  but  a  million,  whose  lot  is  quite  as  doleful  as 
that  of  the  prisoners  of  savage  kings,  but  who  are  to  be 
found,  not  in  the  land  of  the  Soudan,  or  in  the  swamps 
of  Ashantee,  or  in  the  Mountains  of  the  Moon,  but  here  at 
our  very  doors?  Don't  talk  to  me  about  tJie  impossibility 
of  raising  a  million.  Nothing  is  impossible  when  Britain 
is  in  earnest.  All  talk  of  impossibility  onty  means  that 
you  don't  believe  that  the  nation  cares  to  enter  upon  a 
serious  campaign  against  the  enemy  at  our  gates.  When 
John  Bull  goes  to  the  wars  he  does  not  count  the  cost. 
And  who  dare  deny  that  the  time  has  fully  come  for  a 
declaration  of  war  against  the  Social  Evils  which  seem  to 
shut  out  God  from  this,  our  world? 

Section  3. — Some  Advantages  Stated. 

This  Scheme  takes  into  its  embrace  all  kinds  and 
classes  of  men  who  may  be  in  destitute  circumstances, 
irrespective  of  their  character  or  conduct,  and  charges 
itself  with  supplying  at  once  their  temporal  needs ,  and 
then  aims  at  placing  them  in  a  permanent  position  of  com- 
parative comfort,  the  only  stipulation  made  being  a  will- 
ingness to  work  and  to  conform  to  discipline  on  the  part 
of  those  receiving  its  benefit. 


313  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

While  at  the  commencement,  we  must  impose  some 
limits  with  respect  to  age  and  sickness,  we  hope,  when 
fairly  at  work,  to  be  able  to  dispense  with  even  these 
restrictions,  and  to  receive  any  unfortunate  individual  who 
has  only  his  misery  to  recommend  him  and  an  honest 
desire  to  get  out  of  it. 

It  will  be  seen  that,  in  this  respect,  the  Scheme  stands 
head  and  shoulders  above  any  plan  that  has  ever  been 
mooted  before,  seeing  that  nearly  all  the  other  charitable 
and  remedial  proposals  more  or  less  confess  their  utter 
inability  to  benefit  any  but  what  they  term  the  "decent" 
working  man. 

This  Scheme  seeks  out  by  all  manner  of  agencies, 
marvelously  adapted  for  the  task,  the  classes  whose 
welfare  it  contemplates,  and,  by  varied  measures  and 
motives  adapted  to  their  circumstances,  compels  them  to 
accept  its  benefits. 

Our  Plan  contemplates  nothing  short  of  revolutionizing 
the  character  of  those  whose  faults  are  the  reason  for  their 
destitution.  We  have  seen  that  with  fully  fifty  per  cent, 
of  these,  their  own  evil  conduct  is  the  cause  of  their 
wretchedness.  To  stop  short  with  them  of  anything  less 
than  a  real  change  of  heart  will  be  to  invite  and  ensure 
failure.  But  this  we  are  confident  of  effecting — anyway, 
in  the  great  majority  of  cases — by  reasonings  and  persua- 
sions, concerning  both  earthly  and  heavenly  advantages, 
by  the  power  of  man,  and  by  the  power  of  God. 

By  this  Scheme  any  man,  no  matter  how  deeply  he  may 
have  fallen  in  self-respect  and  esteem  of  all  about  him, 
may  re-enter  life  afresh,  with  the  prospect  of  re-establish- 
ing his  character  when  lost,  or  perhaps  of  establishing  a 
character  for  the  first  time,  and  so  obtaining  an  introduc- 
tion to  decent  employment,  and  a  claim  for  admission  into 
Society  as  a  good   citizen.       While  many   of   this   crowd 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  313 

are  absolutely  without  a  decent  friend,  others  will  have, 
on  that  higher  level  of  respectability  they  once  occupied, 
some  relative,  or  friend,  or  employer,  who  occasionally 
thinks  of  them,  and  who,  if  only  satisfied  that  a  real 
change  has  taken  place  in  the  prodigal,  will  not  only  be 
willing,  but  delighted  to  help  them  once  more. 

By  this  Scheme,  we  believe  we  shall  be  able  to  teach 
habits  of  econon^y,  household  management,  thrift,  and  the 
like.  There  are  numbers  of  men  who,  although  suffering 
the  direst  pangs  of  poverty,  know  little  or  nothing  about 
the  value  of  money,  or  the  prudent  use  of  it ;  and  there 
are  hundreds  of  poor  women  who  do  not  know  what  a 
decently  managed  home  is,  and  who  could  not  make  one 
if  they  had  the  most  ample  means  and  tried  ever  so  hard 
to  accomplish  it,  having  never  seen  anything  but  dirt, 
disorder  and  misery  in  their  domestic  history.  They 
could  not  cook  a  dinner  or  prepare  a  meal  decently  if 
their  lives  were  dependent  on  it,  never  having  had  a 
chance  of  learning  how  to  do  it.  But  by  this  Scheme  we 
hope  to  teach  these  things. 

By  this  Plan,  habits  of  cleanliness  will  be  created,  and 
some  knowledge  of  sanitary  questions  in  general  will  be 
imparted. 

This  Scheme  changes  the  circumstances  of  those  whose 
poverty  is  caused  by  their  misfortune. 

To  begin  with,  it  finds  work  for  the  unemployed.  This 
is  the  chief  need.  The  great  problem  that  has  for  ages 
been  puzzling  the  brains  of  the  political  economist  and 
philanthropist  has  been — "How  can  we  find  these  people 
work?"  No  matter  what  other  helps  are  discovered, 
without  work  there  is  no  real  ground  for  hope.  Charity 
and  all  the  other  ten  thousand  devices  are  only  temporary 
expedients,  altogether  insufficient  to  meet  the  necessity. 
Work,  apart  from  the  fact  that  it  is  God's  method  of 
supplying   the   wants   of   man's  composite    nature,     is   an 


3U  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

essential  to  his  well-being  in  every  way — and  on  this  Plan 
there  is  work,  honorable  work — none  of  your  demoralizing 
stone-breaking,  or  oakum -picking  business,  which  tantal- 
izes and  insults  poverty.  Every  worker  will  feel  that  he 
is  not  only  occupied  for  his  own  benefit,  but  that  any 
advantage  reaped  over  and  above  that  which  he  gains  him- 
self will  serve  to  lift  some  other  poor  wretch  out  of  the 
gutter. 

There  would  be  work  within  the  capacity  of  all.  Every 
gift  could  be  employed.  For  instance,  take  five  persons 
on  the  Farm — a  baker,  a  tailor,  a  shoemaker,  a  cook  and 
an  agriculturist.  The  baker  would  make  bread  for  all, 
the  tailor  garments  for  all,  the  shoemaker  shoes  for  all, 
the  cook  would  cook  for  all,  and  the  agriculturalist  dig  for 
all.  Those  who  know  anything  which  would  be  useful  to 
the  inhabitants  of  the  Colony  will  be  set  to  do  it,  and 
those  who  are  ignorant  of  any  trade  or  profession  will  be 
taught  one. 

This  Scheme  removes  the  vicious  and  criminal  classes 
out  of  the  sphere  of  those  temptations  before  which  they 
have  invariably  fallen  in  the  past.  Our  experience  goes 
to  show  that  when  you  have,  by  Divine  grace,  or  by  any 
consideration  of  the  advantages  of  a  good  life,  or  the  dis- 
advantages ot  a  bad  one,  produced  in  a  man  circumstanced 
as  those  whom  we  have  been  describing,  the  resolution 
to  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  the  temptations  and  difficulties  he 
has  to  encounter  will  ordinarily  master  him,  and  undo  all 
that  has  been  done,  if  he  still  continues  to  be  surrounded 
by  old  companions  and  allurements  to  sin. 

Now,  look  at  the  force  of  the  temptations  this  class  has 
to  fight  against.  What  is  it  that  leads  people  to  do 
wrong — people  of  all  classes,  rich  as  well  as  poor?  Not 
the  desire  to  sin.  They  do  not  want  to  sin ;  many  of 
them  do  not  know  what  sin  is,  but  they  have  certain 
appetites  or  natural   likings,  the    indulgence    of    which    is 


AND  THE  WAY  OUt  Ut 

pleasant  to  them,  and  when  the  desire  for  their  unlawfu? 
gratification  is  aroused,  regardless  of  the  claims  of  God, 
their  own  highest  interests,  or  the  well-being  of  their 
fellows,  they  are  carried  away  by  them ;  and  thus  all  the 
good  resolutions  they  have  made  in  the  past  come  to  grief. 

For  instance,  take  the  temptation  which  comes  through 
the  natural  appetite,  hunger.  Here  is  a  man  who  ha? 
been  at  a  religious  meeting,  or  received  some  good  advice, 
or,  perhaps,  just  come  out  of  prison,  with  the  memories 
of  the  hardships  he  has  suffered  fresh  upon  him,  or  the 
advice  of  the  chaplain  ringing  in  his  ears.  He  has  made 
up  his  mind  to  steal  no  more,  but  he  has  no  means  of 
earning  a  livelihood.  He  becomes  hungry.  What  is  he 
to  do?  A  loaf  of  bread  tempts  him,  or,  more  likely,  a 
gold  chain  which  he  can  turn  into  bread.  An  inward 
struggle  commences,  he  tries  to  stick  to  his  bargain,  but 
the  hunger  goes  on  gnawing  within,  and  it  may  be  there 
is  a  wife  and  children  hungry  as  well  as  himself;  so  he 
yields  to  the  temptation,  takes  the  chain  and  in  turn  the 
policeman  takes  him.  ^ 

Now  this  man  does  not  want  to  do  wrong,  and  still  less 
does  he  want  to  go  to  prison.  In  a  sincere,  dreamy  way 
he  desires  to  be  good;  and  if  the  path  were  easier  for 
him  he  would  probably  walk  in  it. 

Again,  there  is  the  appetite  for  drink-  That  man  has 
no  thought  of  sinning  when  he  takes  his  first  glass.  Much 
less  does  he  want  to  get  drunk.  He  may  have  still  a 
vivid  recoiiection  of  the  unpleasant  consequences  that 
followed  his  last  spree,  but  the  craving  is  on  him ;  the 
public  house  is  there  handy ;  his  companions  press  him ; 
he  yields  and  falls,  and,  perhaps,  falls  to  rise  no  more. 

We  might  amplify,  but  our  Scheme  proposes  to  take 
the  poor  slave  right  away  from  the  public-houses,  the 
drink  and  the  companions  that  allure  him  to  it,  and 
therefore  we  think  the  chances  of  reformation  in  him  are 
far  greater. 


Bl(3  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Then  think  of  the  great  boon  this  Scheme  will  be  to 
the  children,  bringing  them  out  of  the  slums,  wretched 
hovels,  and  filthy  surroundings  in  which  they  are  being 
reared  for  lives  of  abomination  of  every  description,  into 
the  fields,  amongst  the  green  trees  and  cottage  homes, 
where  they  can  grow  up  with  a  chance  of  saving  both 
body  and  soul. 

Think  again  of  the  change  this  Scheme  will  make  for 
these  poor  creatures  from  the  depressing,  demoralizing 
surroundings,  of  the  unsightly,  filthy  quarters  in  which 
they  are  huddled  together,  to  the  pure  air  and  sights  and 
sounds  of  the  country.  There  is  much  talk  about  the 
beneficial  influence  of  pictures,  music  and  literature  upon 
the  multitudes.  Money,  like  water,  is  being  poured 
forth  to  supply  such  attractions  in  Museums,  People's 
Palaces,  and  the  like,  for  the  edification  and  amelioration 
of  the  social  condition  of  the  masses.  But  "'God  made 
the  country,  man  made  the  town,''  and  if  we  take  the 
people»to  the  pictures  of  divine  manufacture,  that  must 
be  the  superior  plan. 

Again  the  Scheme  is  capable    of  illimitable  application. 

The  plaister  can  be  made  as  large  as  the  wound.  The 
wound  is  certainly  a  very  extensive  one,  and  it  seems  at 
first  sight  almost  ridiculous  for  any  private  enterprise  to 
attempt  dealing  with  it.  Three  millions  of  people,  living 
in  little  short  of  perpetual  misery  have  to  be  reached  and  res- 
cu<3d  out  of  this  terrible  condition.  But  it  can  be  done,  and 
this  Scheme  will  do  it,  if  it  is  allowed  a  fair  chance. 
Not  all  at  once?  True!  It  will  take  time,  but  it  will 
begin  to  tell  on  the  festering  mass  straight  away.  Within 
a  measurable  distance  we  ought  to  be  able  to  take  out  of 
of  this  black  sea  at  least  a  hundred  individuals  a  week, 
and  there  is  no  reason  why  this  number  should  not  go 
on  increasing. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  31"? 

An  appreciable  impression  on  this  gulf  of  misery  would 
be  immediately  made,  not  only  for  those  who  are  rescued 
from  its  dark  waters,  but  for  those  who  are  left  behind 
seeing  that  for  every  hundred  individuals  removed,  there 
is  just  the  additional  work  which  they  performed  for  those 
who  remain.  It  might  not  be  much,  but  still  it  would 
soon  count  up.  Supposing  three  carpenters  are  starving 
on  employment  which  covered  one-third  of  their  time,  if 
you  take  two  away,  the  one  will  have  full  employment. 
But  it  will  be  for  the  public  to  fix,  by  their  contributions, 
the  extent  of  our  operations. 

The  benefits  bestowed  by  this  Scheme  will  be  permanent 
in  duration.  It  will  be  seen  that  this  is  no  temporary 
expedient,  such  as,  alas  !  nearly  every  effort  hitherto  made 
on  behalf  of  these  classes  has  been.  Relief  Works,  Soup 
Kitchens,  Enquiries  into  Character,  Emigration  Schemes, 
of  which  none  will  avail  themselves.  Charity  in  its  hundred 
forms.  Casual  Wards,  the  Union,  and  a  hundred  other 
Nostrums  may  serve  for  the  hour,  but  they  are  only  at 
the  best,  palliations.  But  this  Scheme,  I  am  bold  to  say, 
offers  a  substantial  and  permanent  remedy. 

In  relieving  one  section  of  the  community,  our  plan 
involves  no  interference  with  the  well-being  of  any  other. 
(See  Chapter  VII     Section  4,     Objections.  ') 

This  Scheme  removes  the  all  but  insuperable  barrier  to 
an  industrious  and  godly  life.  It  means  not  only  the 
leading  of  these  lost  multitudes  out  of  the  "City  of 
Destruction"  into  the  Canaan  of  plenty,  but  the  lifting  of 
them  up  to  the  same  level  of  advantage  with  the  more 
favored  of  mankind  for  securing  the  salvation  of  their  souls. 

Look  at  the  circumstances  of  hundreds  and  thousands 
of  the  classes  of  whom  we  are  speaking.  From  the  cradle 
to  the  grave,  might  not  their  influence  in  the  direction  of 
Religious  Belief  be  summarized  in  one  sentence,  "Atheism 
made  easy.  '     Let  my  readers  imagine  theirs  to  have  been 


8i8  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

a  similar  lot.  Is  it  not  possible  that,  under  such  circum- 
tances,  they  might  have  entertained  some  serious  doubts 
as  to  the  existence  of  a  benevolent  God  who  would  thus 
allow  His  creatures  to  starve,  or  that  they  would  have 
been  so  preoccupied  with  their  temporal  miseries  as  to 
have  no  heart  for  any  concern  about  the  next  life? 

Take  a  man,  hungry  and  cold,  who  does  not  know 
where  his  next  meal  is  coming  from  ;  nay,  who  thinks  it 
problematical  whether  it  will  come  at  all.  We  know  his 
thoughts  will  be  taken  up  entirely  with  the  bread  he  needs 
for  his  bodyo  What  he  wants  is  a  dinner.  The  interests 
of  his  soul  must  wait. 

Take  a  woman  with  a  starving  family,  who  knows  that 
as  soon  as  Monday  comes  round  the  rent  must  be  payed, 
or  else  she  and  her  children  must  go  into  the  street,  and 
her  little  belongings  be  impounded.  At  the  present 
moment  she  is  without  it.  Are  not  her  thoughts  likely  to 
wander  in  that  direction  if  she  slips  into  a  Church  or 
Mission  Hall,  or  Salvation  Army  Barracks? 

I  have  had  some  experience  on  this  subject,  and  have 
been  making  observations  with  respect  to  it  ever  since 
the  day  1  made  my  first  attempt  to  reach  these  starving, 
hungry  crowds  just  over  forty -five  years  ago — and  I  am 
quite  satisfied  that  these  multitudes  will  not  be  saved  in 
their  present  circumstances.  All  the  Clergymen,  Home 
Missionaries,  Tract  Distributors,  Sick  Visitors  and  every- 
one else  who  care  about  the  salvation  of  the  poor,  may 
make  up  their  minds  as  to  that.  If  these  people  are  to 
believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  become  the  Servants  of  God,  and 
escape  the  miseries  of  the  wrath  to  come,  they  must  be 
helped  out  of  their  present  social  miseries.  They  must 
be  put  into  a  position  in  which  they  can  work  and  eat, 
and  have  a  decent  room  to  live  and  sleep  in,  and  see 
something  before  them  besides  a  long,  weary,  monotonous, 
grinding    round    of   toil,  and   anxious  care  to   keep  them- 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  819 

selves  and  those  they  love  barely  alive,  with  nothing  at 
the  further  end  but  the  Hospital,  the  Union,  or  the  Mad- 
house. If  Christian  Workers  and  Philanthropists  will 
join  hands  to  effect  this  change  it  will  be  accomplished, 
and  the  people  will  rise  up  and  bless  them,  and  be  saved  ; 
if  they  will  not,  the  people  will  curse  them  and  perish. 

Section  4. — Some  Objections  Met. 

Objections  must  be  expected.  They  are  a  necessity  with 
regard  to  any  Scheme  that  has  not  yet  been  reduced  to 
practice,  and  simply  signify  foreseen  difficulties  in  the  work- 
ing of  it.  We  freely  admit  that  there  are  abundance  of  diffi- 
culties in  the  way  of  working  out  the  plan,  smoothly  and 
successfully,  that  has  been  laid  down.  But  many  of  these, 
we  imagine,  will  vanish  when  we  come  to  close  quarters, 
and  the  remainder  will  be  surmounted  by  courage  and 
patience.  Should,  however,  this  plan  prove  the  success  we 
predict,  it  must  eventually  revolutionize  the  condition  of 
the  starving  sections  of  Society,  not  only  in  this  great 
metropolis,  but  throughout  the  whole  range  of  civilization. 
It  must  therefore  be  worthy  not  only  of  a  careful  considera- 
tion but  of  persevering  trial. 

Some  of  these  difficulties  at  first  sight  appear  rather  seri- 
ous.    Let  us  look  at  them. 

Objection  I. — //  is  suggested  that  the  class  of  people  for  whose 
benefit  the  Scheme  is  designed  would  not  avail  themselves  of  it. 

When  the  feast  was  prepared  and  the  invitation  had 
gone  forth,  it  is  said  that  the  starving  multitudes  would  not 
come;  that  though  labor  was  offered  them  in  the  City,  or 
prepared  for  them  on  the  Farm,  they  would  prefer  to  rot  in 
their  present  miseries  rather  than  avail  themselves  of  the 
benefit  provided. 

In  order  to  gather  the  opinions  of  those  most  concerned, 
we  consulted  one  evening,  by  a  Census  in  our  London  Shel- 


S20  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

ters,  two  hundred  and  fifty  men  out  of  work,  and  all  suffer- 
ing severely  in  consequence.  We  furnished  a  set  of  ques- 
tions, and  obtained  answers  from  the  whole.  Now,  it  must 
be  borne  in  mind  that  these  men  were  under  no  obligation 
whatever  to  make  any  reply  to  our  inquiries,  much  less  to 
answer  them  favorably  to  our  plan,  of  which  they  knew 
next  to  nothing. 

These  two  hundred  and  fifty  men  were  mostly  in  the 
prime  of  life,  the  greater  portion  of  them  being  skilled 
workmen;  an  examination  of  the  return  papers  showing 
that  out  of  the  entire  number  two  hundred  and  seven  were 
able  to  work  at  their  trades  had  they  the  opportunity. 

The  number  of  trades  naturally  varied.  There  were 
some  of  all  kinds;  Engineers,  Custom  House  Officers, 
Schoolmasters,  Watch  and  Clockmakers,  Sailors  and  men 
of  the  different  branches  of  the  Building  trade;  also  a  num- 
ber of  men  who  have  been  in  business  on  their  own  ac- 
count. 

The  average  amount  of  wages  earned  by  the  skilled  me- 
chanics when  regularly  employed  was  33s.  per  week;  the 
money  earned  by  the  unskilled  averaged  22s.  per  week. 

They  could  not  be  accounted  lazy,  as  most  of  them,  when 
not  employed  at  their  own  trade  or  occupation,  had  proved 
their  willingness  to  work  by  getting  jobs  at  anything  that 
turned  up.  On  looking  over  the  list  we  saw  that  one  who 
had  been  a  Custom  House  Officer  had  recently  acted  as 
Carpenter's  Laborer;  a  Type-founder  had  been  glad  to  work 
at  Chimney  Sweeping;  the  Schoolmaster,  able  to  speak  five 
languages,  who  in  his  prosperous  days  had  owned  a  farm, 
was  glad  to  do  odd  jobs  as  a  Bricklayer's  Laborer;  a  Gen- 
tleman's Valet,  who  once  owned  ^5  a  week,  had  come  so 
low  down  in  the  world  that  he  was  glad  to  act  as  Sandwich 
man  for  the  magnificent  sum  of  fourteen  pence  a  day,  and 
that,  only  as  an  occasional  affair.  In  the  list  was  a  dyer 
and  cleaner,  married,  with  a  wife  and  nine   children,    who 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  331 

had  been  able  to  earn  40s.  a  week,  but  had  done  no  regu- 
lar work  for  three  years  out  of  the  last  ten. 

We  put  the  following  question  to  the  entire  number: — 
*'  If  you  were  put  on  a  farm,  and  set  to  work  at  anything 
you  could  do,  and  supplied  with  food,  lodging  and  cloth- 
ing, with  a  view  to  getting  you  on  your  feet,  would  you  dc 
all  you  could  ?  " 

In  response,  the  whole  250  replied  in  the  affirmative,  with 
one  exception,  and  on  enquiry  we  elicited  that,  being  a 
sailor,  the  man  was  afraid  he  would  not  know  how  to  do  the 
work. 

On  being  interrogated  as  to  their  willingness  to  grapple 
with  the  hard  labor  on  the  land,  they  said:  ''  Why  should 
we  not?  Look  at  us.  Can  any  plight  be  more  miserable 
than  ours  ?" 

Why  not,  indeed  ?  A  glance  at  them  would  certainly 
make  it  impossible  for  any  thoughtful  person  to  assign  a 
rational  reason  for  their  refusal — in  rags,  swarming  with 
vermin,  hungry,  many  of  them  living  on  scraps  of  food 
begged  or  earned  in  the  most  haphazard  fashion,  without 
sufficient  clothing  to  cover  their  poor  gaunt  limbs,  most  of 
them  without  a  shirt.  They  had  to  start  out  the  next  morn- 
ing, uncertain  which  way  to  turn  to  earn  a  crust  for  dinner, 
or  the  fourpence  necessary  to  supply  them  again  with  the 
humble  shelter  they  had  enjoyed  that  night.  The  idea  of 
their  refusing  employment  which  would  supply  abundantly 
the  necessaries  of  life,  and  give  the  prospect  of  becoming, 
in  process  of  time,  the  owner  of  a  home,  with  its  comforts 
and  companionships,  is  beyond  conception.  There  is  not 
much  question  that  this  class  will  not  only  accept  the 
Scheme  we  want  to  set  before  them,  but  gratefully  do  all  in 
their  power  to  make  it  a  success. 

II.  —  Too  many  would  come. 

This  would  be  very  probable.  There  would  certainly  be 
too  many  apply.  But  we  should  be  under  no  obligation  to 
21 


823  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

take  more  than  was  convenient.  The  larger  the  number  of 
appHcations  the  wider  the  field  for  selection,  and  the  greater 
the  necessity  for  the  enlargement  of  our  operations. 

III.  —  They  would  run  away. 

It  is  further  objected  that  if  they  did  come,  the  monotony 
of  the  life,  the  strangeness  of  the  work,  together  with  the 
absence  of  the  excitements  and  amusements  with  which 
they  had  been  entertained  in  the  cities  and  towns,  would 
render  their  existence  unbearable.  Even  when  left  to  the 
streets,  there  is  an  amount  of  life  and  action  in  the  city 
which  is  very  attractive.  Doubtless  some  would  run  away, 
but  I  don't  think  this  would  be  a  large  proportion.  The 
change  would  be  so  great,  and  so  palpably  advantageous, 
that  I  think  they  would  find  in  it  ample  compensation  for 
the  deprivation  of  any  little  pleasurable  excitement  they 
had  left  behind  them  in  the  city.  For  instance,  there 
would  be — 

A  sufficiency  of  food. 

The  friendliness  and  sympathy  of  their  new  associates. 
There  would  be  abundance  of  companions  of  similar 
tastes  and  circumstances — not  all  pious.  It  would  be 
quite  another  matter  to  going  single-handed  on  to  a 
farm,  or  into  a  melancholy  family. 

Then  there  would  be  the  prospect  of  doing  well  for 
themselves  in  the  future,  together  with  all  the  religious 
life,  meetings,  music  and  freedom  of  the  Salvation 
Army. 

But  what  says  our  experience  ? 

If  there  be  one  class  which  is  the  despair  of  the  social 
reformer,  it  is  that  which  is  variously  described,  but  which 
we  may  term  the  lost  women  of  our  streets.  From  the 
point  of  view  of  the  industrial  organizer,  they  suffer  from 
almost  every  fault  that  human  material  can  possess.  They 
are,  with  some  exceptions,  untrained  to  labor,  demoralized 
by  a  life  of  debauchery,  accustomed  to  the  wildest  license, 
emancipated  from  all  discipline  but  that  of  starvation,  given 
to  drink,  and,  for  the  most  part,  impaired  in  health.     If, 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  823 

therefore,  any  considerable  number  of  this  class  can  be 
shown  to  be  ready  to  submit  themselves  voluntarily  to  dis- 
cipline, to  endure  deprivation  of  drink,  and  to  apply  them- 
selves steadily  to  industry,  then  example  will  go  a  long  way 
towards  proving  that  even  the  worst  description  of  humanity, 
when  intelligently,  thoroughly  handled,  is  amenable  to  dis- 
cipline and  willing  to  work.  In  our  British  Rescue  Homes 
we  receive  considerably  over  a  thousand  unfortunates  every 
year;  while  all  over  the  world,  our  annual  average  is  two 
thousand.  The  work  has  been  in  progress  for  three  years 
— long  enough  to  enable  us  to  test  very  fully  the  capacity  of 
the  class  in  question  to  reform. 

With  us  there  is  no  compulsion.  If  any  girl  wishes  to 
remain,  she  remains.  If  she  wishes  to  go,  she  goes.  No 
one  is  detained  a  day  or  an  hour  longer  than  they  choose 
to  stay.  Yet  our  experience  shows  that,  as  a  rule,  they  do 
not  run  away.  Much  more  restless  and  thoughtless  and 
given  to  change,  as  a  class,  than  men,  the  girls  do  not,  in 
any  considerable  numbers,  desert.  The  average  of  our 
London  Homes,  for  the  last  three  years,  gives  only  14  per 
cent,  as  leaving  on  their  own  account,  while  for  the  year 
i88g,  only  5  per  cent.  And  the  entire  number,  who  have 
either  left  or  been  dismissed  during  the  year,  amounts  only 
to  13  per  cent,  on  the  whole. 

IV. — They  wojild  7iot  work. 

Of  course,  to  such  as  had  for  years  been  leading  idle  lives, 
anything  like  work  and  exhaustive  labor  would  be  very  try- 
ing and  wearisome,  and  a  little  patience  and  coaxing  might 
be  required  to  get  them  into  the  way  of  it.  Perhaps  some 
would  be  hopelessly  beyond  salvation  in  this  respect,  and, 
until  the  time  comes,  if  it  ever  does  arrive,  when  the  Gov- 
ernment will  make  it  a  crime  for  an  able-bodied  man  to  beg 
when  there  is  an  opportunity  for  him  to  engage  in  remun- 
erative work,  this  class  will  wander  abroad  preying  upon  a 
generous  public,     It  will,  however,  only  need  to  be  knowi> 


324  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

that  any  man  can  obtain  work  if  he  wants  it,  for  those  who 
have  by  their  liberality  maintained  men  and  women  in 
idleness  to  cease  doing  so.  And  when  it  comes  to  this 
pass,  that  a  man.  cannot  eat  without  working,  of  the  two 
evils  he  will  choose  the  latter,  preferring  labor,  however 
unpleasant  it  may  be  to  his  tastes,  to  actual  starvation. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  penalty  of  certain 
expulsion,  which  all  would  be  given  to  understand  would 
be  strictly  enforced,  would  have  a  good  influence  in  induc- 
ing the  idlest  to  give  work  a  fair  trial,  and  once  at  it  I 
should  not  despair  of  conquering  the  aversion  altogether 
and  eventually  being  able  to  transform  and  pass  these 
once  lazy  loafers  as  real  industrious  members  of  Society. 

Again,  any  who  have  fears  on  this  point  may  be  encour- 
aged, by  contrasting  the  varied  and  everchanging  methods 
of  labor  we  should  pursue,  with  the  monotonous  and  unin- 
teresting grind  of  many  of  the  ordinary  employments  of  the 
poor,  and  the  circumstances  by  which  they  are  surrounded. 

Here  again,  we  fall  back  upon  our  actual  experience  in 
reclamation  work.  In  our  Homes  for  saving  the  Lost 
Women,  we  have  no  difficulty  of  getting  them  to  work. 
The  idleness  of  this  section  of  the  social  strata  has  been 
before  referred  to ;  it  is  not  for  a  moment  denied,  and 
there  can  be  no  question,  as  to  its  being  the  cause  of  much 
of  their  poverty  and  distress.  But  from  early  morn  until 
the  lights  are  out  at  night,  all  is  a  round  of  busy  and,  to 
a  great  extent,  very  uninteresting  labor ;  while  the  girls 
have,  as  a  human  inducement,  only  domestic  service  to 
look  forward  to — of  which  they  are  in  no  way  particularly 
enamored — and  yet  there  is  no  mutiny,  no  objection,  no 
unwillingness  to  work ;  in  fact  they  appear  well  pleased 
to  be  kept  continually  at  it.  Here  is  a  report  that  teaches 
the  same  lesson  : 

A  small  Bookbinding  Factory  is  worked  in  connection 
with  the  Rescue  Homes  in  London.  The  folders  and 
Stitchers  are  girls  saved  from  the  streets,  but  who,  for  various 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  325 

reasons,  were  found  unsuitable  for  domestic  service.  The 
Factory  has  solved  the  problem  of  employment  for  some  of 
the  most  difficult  cases.  Two  of  the  girls  at  present 
employed  there  are  crippled,  while  one  is  supporting  herself 
and  two  young  children. 

While  learning  the  work  they  live  in  the  Rescue  Homes, 
and  the  few  shillings  they  are  able  to  earn  are  paid  into  the 
Home  funds.  As  soon  as  they  are  able  to  earn  12s.  a  week, 
a  lodging  is  found  for  them  (with  Salvationists,  if  possible), 
and  they  are  placed  entirely  upon  their  own  resources.  The 
majority  of  girls  working  at  this  trade  in  London,  are  living 
in  the  family,  and  6s.,  7s.  and  8s.  a  week,  make  an  accept- 
able addition  to  the  Home  income;  but  our  girls  who  are 
entirely  dependent  upon  their  own  earnings  must  make  an 
average  wage  of  12s.  a  week  at  least.  In  order  that  they 
may  do  this  we  are  obliged  to  pay  higher  wages  than  other 
employers.  For  instance,  we  give  from  2^d.  to  3d.  a 
thousand  more  than  the  trade  for  binding  small  pamphlets; 
nevertheless,  after  the  manager,  a  married  man,  is  paid, 
and  a  man  for  the  superintendence  of  the  machines,  a  profit 
of  about  ;^5oo  has  been  made,  and  the  work  is  improvifig. 
They  are  all  paid  piecework. 

Eighteen  women  are  supporting  themselves  in  this  way 
at  present,  and  conducting  themselves  most  admirably. 
One  of  their  number  acts  as  forewoman,  and  conducts  the 
Prayer  Meeting  at  12:30,  the  Two-minutes'  Prayer  after 
meals,  etc.  Their  continuance  in  the  factory  is  subject  to 
their  good  behavior — both  at  home  as  well  as  at  work.  In 
one  instance  only  have  we  had  any  trouble  at  all,  and  in  this 
case  the  girl  was  so  penitent  she  was  forgiven,  and  has  done 
well  ever  since.  I  think  that,  without  exception,  they  are 
Salvation  Soldiers,  and  will  be  found  at  nearly  every  meet- 
ing on  the  Sabbath,  etc.  The  binding  of  Salvation  Army 
publications — ''The  Deliverer,"  ''AH  the  World,"  the 
Penny  Song  Books,  etc.,  almost  keep  us  going.  A  little 
outside  work  for  the  end  of  the  month  is  taken,  but  we  are 
not  able  to  make  any  profit  generally,  it  is  so  badly  paid. 

It  will  be  seen  that  this  is  a  miniature  factory,  but  still  it 
is  a  factory,  and  worked  on  principles  that  will  admit  of 
illimitable  extension  and  may,  I  think,  be  justly  regarded  as 
an  encouragement  and  an  exemplification  of  what  may  be  ac- 


826  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

complished  in  endless  variations. 

V. — Again,  it  is  objected  that  the  class  whose  benefit  we  con- 
template would  not  have  physical  ability  to  work  on  a  farm,  or 
in  the  open  air. 

How,  it  is  asked,  would  tailors,  clerks,  weavers,  seam- 
stresses and  the  destitute  people,  born  and  reared  in  the 
slums  and  poverty-hovels  of  the  towns  and  cities,  do  farm 
or  any  other  work  that  has  to  do  with  the  land  ?  The  em- 
ployment in  the  open  air,  with  exposure  to  every  kind  of 
weather  which  accompanies  it,  would,  it  is  said,  kill  them 
off  right  away. 

We  reply,  that  the  division  of  labor  before  described 
would  render  it  as  unnecessary  as  it  would  be  undesirable 
and  uneconomical,  to  put  many  of  these  people  to  dig  or  to 
plant.  Neither  is  it  any  part  of  our  plan  to  do  so.  On  our 
Scheme  we  have  shown  how  each  one  would  be  appointed 
to  that  kind  of  work  for  which  his  previous  knowledge  and 
experience  and  strength  best  adapted  him. 

Moreover,  there  can  be  no  possible  comparison  between 
the  conditions  of  health  enjoyed  by  men  and  women  wander- 
ing about  homeless,  sleeping  in  the  streets  or  in  the  fever- 
haunted  lodging  houses,  or  living  huddled  up  in  a  single 
room,  and  toiling  twelve  and  fourteen  hours  in  a  sweater's 
den,  and  living  in  comparative  comfort  in  well-warmed  and 
ventilated  houses,  situated  in  the  open  country,  with  abun- 
dance of  good,  healthy  food. 

Take  a  man  or  a  woman  out  into  the  fresh  air,  give  them 
proper  exercise  and  substantial  food,  supply  them  with  a 
comfortable  home,  cheerful  companions,  and  a  fair  prospect 
of  reaching  a  position  of  independence  in  this  or  some 
other  land,  and  a  complete  renewal  of  health  and  careful  in- 
crease of  vigor  will,  we  expect,  be  one  of  the  first  great  bene- 
fits that  will  ensue. 

VI. — It  is  objected  that  we  should  be  left  with  a  consider c^bie 
residuum  of  half-witted,  helpless  people. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  S  ;7 

Doubtless  this  would  be  a  real  difficulty,  and  \va 
should  have  to  prepare  for  it.  We  certainly,  at  the  outset, 
should  have  to  guard  against  too  many  of  this  class  being 
left  upon  our  hands,  although  we  should  not  be  compelled 
to  keep  anyone.  It  would,  however,  be  painful  to  have  to 
send  them  back  to  the  dreadful  life  from  which  we  had  res- 
cued them.  Still,  however,  this  would  not  be  so  ruinous  a 
risk,  looked  at  financially,  as  some  would  imagine.  We 
could,  we  think,  mantain  them  for  4s.  per  week,  and  they 
would  be  very  weak  indeed  in  body,  and  very  wanting  in 
mental  strength,  if  they  were  not  able  to  earn  that  amount 
in  some  one  of  the  many  forms  of  employment  which  the 
Colony  would  open  up. 

VII. — Agai?i,  it  will  be  objected  that  so77ie  efforts  of  a  si7?iilar 
chai'acter  have  failed.  For  instance,  co-operative  enterprises  in 
farming  have  not  succeeded. 

True,  but  so  far  as  I  can  ascertain,  nothing  of  the  charac- 
ter I  am  describing  has  ever  been  attempted.  A  large  num- 
ber of  Socialistic  communities  have  been  establii-ihed  and 
come  to  grief  in  the  United  States,  in  Germany  and  else- 
where, but  they  have  all,  both  in  principle  and  practice, 
strikingly  differed  from  what  we  are  proposing  here.  Take 
one  particular  alone,  the  great  bulk  of  these  societies  have 
not  only  been  fashioned  without  any  regard  to  the  principles 
of  Christianity,  but,  in  the  vast  majority  of  instances,  have 
been  in  direct  opposition  to  them;  and  the  only  communi- 
ties based  on  co-operative  principles  that  have  survived  the 
first  few  months  of  their  existence  have  been  based  upon 
Christian  truth.  If  not  absolute  successes,  there  have  been 
some  very  remarkable  results  obtained  by  efforts  partaking 
somewhat  of  the  nature  ot  the  one  I  am  setting  forth.  (See 
that  of  Ralahine,  described  in  appendix.) 

VIII. — It  is  further  objected  that  it  would  be  impossible  to 
maintain  order  a,nd  enforce  ^ood  discipline  amongst  this  class  of 
people. 


328  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

We  are  of  just  the  opposite  opinion.  We  think  that 
it  would — nay,  we  are  certain  of  it,  and  we  speak  as  those 
who  have  had  considerable  experience  in  dealing  with  the 
lower  classes  of  Society.  We  have  already  dealt  with  this 
difficulty.     We  may  say  further — 

That  we  do  not  propose  to  commence  with  a  thousand 
people  in  a  wild,  untamed  state,  either  at  home  or  abroad. 
To  the  Over-Sea  Colony  we  should  send  none  but  those 
who  have  had  a  long  period  of  training  in  this  country. 
The  bulk  of  those  sent  to  the  Provincial  Farm  would  have  had 
some  sort  of  trial  in  the  different  City  Establishments.  We 
should  only  draft  them  on  to  the  Estate  in  small  numbers, 
as  we  were  prepared  to  deal  with  them,  and  I  am  quite 
satisfied  that  without  the  legal  methods  of  maintaining 
order  that  are  acted  upon  so  freely  in  workhouses  and  other 
similar  institutions,  we  should  have  as  perfect  obedience 
to  Law,  as  great  respect  for  authority,  and  as  strong  a  spirit 
of  kindness  pervading  all  ranks  throughout  the  whole  of  the 
community  as  could  be  found  in  any  other  institution  in  the 
land. 

It  will  be  borne  in  mind  that  our  Army  system  of  govern- 
ment largely  prepares  us,  if  it  does  not  qualify  us,  for  this 
task.  Anyway,  it  gives  us  a  good  start.  All  our  people  are 
trained  in  habits  of  obedience,  and  all  our  Officers  are  edu- 
cated in  the  exercise  of  authority.  The  Officers  through- 
out the  Colony  would  be  almost  exclusively  recruited  from 
the  ranks  of  the  Army,  and  everyone  of  them  would  go  to 
the  work,  both  theoretically  and  practically  familiar  with 
those  principles  which  are   the   essence  of  good  discipline. 

Then  we  can  argue,  and  that  very  forcibly,  from  the  actual 
experience  we  have  already  had  in  dealing  with  this  class. 
Take  our  experience  in  the  Army  itself.  Look  at  the  order 
of  our  Soldiers.  Here  are  men  and  women,  who  have  no 
temporial  interest  whatever  at  stake,  receiving  no  remunera- 
tion often  sacrificing  their  earthly  interests  by  their  union 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  329 

with  us,  and  yet  see  how  they  fall  Into  line,  and  obey  orders 
in  the  promptest  manner,  even  when  such  orders  go  right  in 
the  teeth  of  their  temporal  interests. 

''Yes,"  it  will  be  replied  by  some,  ''this  is  all  very  excel- 
lent so  far  as  it  relates  to  those  who  are  altogether  of  your 
own  way  of  thinking.  You  can  command  them  as  you 
please,  and  they  will  obey,  but  what  proof  have  you  given 
of  your  ability  to  control  and  discipline  those  who  are  not  of 
your  way  of  thinking? 

"You  can  do  that  with  your  Salvationists  because  they 
are  saved,  as  you  call  it.  When  men  are  born  again  you 
can  do  any  thing  with  them.  But  unless  you  convert  all 
the  denizens  of  Darkest  England,  what  chance  is  there  that 
they  will  be  docile  to  your  discipline  ?  If  they  were  soundly 
saved  no  doubt  something  might  be  done.  But  they  are 
not  saved,  soundly  or  otherwise;  they  are  lost.  What 
reason  have  370U  for  believing  that  they  will  be  amenable  to 
discipline  ?  " 

I  admit  the  force  of  this  objection;  but  I  have  an  answer, 
and  an  answer  which  seems  to  be  complete.  Discipline,  and 
that  of  the  most  merciless  description,  is  enforced  upon 
multitudes  of  these  people  even  now.  Nothing  that  the 
most  authoritative  organization  of  industry  could  devise 
in  the  excess  of  absolute  power,  could  for  a  moment  com- 
pare with  the  slavery  enforced  to-day  in  the  dens  of  the 
sweater.  It  is  not  a  choice  between  liberty  and  discipline 
that  confronts  these  unfortunates,  but  between  discipline 
mercilessly  enforced  by  starvation  and  inspired  by  futile 
greed,  and  discipline  accompanied  with  regular  rations  and 
administered  solely  for  their  own  benefit.  What  liberty  is 
there  for  the  tailors  who  have  to  sew  for  sixteen  to  twenty 
hours  a  day,  in  a  pest-hole,  in  order  to  earn  ten  shillings  a 
week?  There  is  no  discipline  so  brutal  as  that  of  the 
sweater;  there  is  no  slavery  so  relentless  as  that  from 
which  we    seek    to   deliver   the    victims.     Compared  with 


830  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

their  normal  condition  of  existence,  the  most  rigorous  disci- 
pline which  would  be  needed  to  secure  the  completi  suc- 
cess of  any  new  individual  organization  would  be  an  escape 
from  slavery  into  freedom. 

You  may  reply,  ''That  it  might  be  so,  if  people  under- 
stood their  own  interest.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact  they  do 
not  understand  it,  and  that  they  will  never  have  sufHcient 
far-sightedness  to  appreciate  the  advantages  that  are 
offered  them." 

To  this  I  answer,  that  here  also  I  do  not  speak  from 
theory.  I  lay  before  you  the  ascertained  results  of  years 
of  experience.  More  than  two  years  ago,  moved  by  the 
misery  and  despair  of  the  unemployed,  I  opened  the  Food 
and  Shelter  Depots  in  London  already  described.  Here 
are  a  large  number  of  men  every  night,  many  of  them  of  the 
lowest  type  of  casuals  who  crawl  about  the  streets,  a  certain 
proportion  criminals,  and  about  as  difficult  a  class  to  man- 
age as  I  should  think  could  be  got  together,  and  while  there 
will  be  two  hundred  of  them  in  a  single  building  night  after 
night,  from  the  first  opening  of  the  doors  in  the  evening  un- 
til the  last  man  has  departed  in  the  morning,  there  shall 
scarcely  be  a  word  of  dissatisfaction;  anyway,  nothing  in 
the  shape  of  angry  temper  or  bad  language.  No  policemen 
are  required;  indeed  two  or  three  nights'  experience  will  be 
sufficient  to  turn  the  regular  frequenters  of  the  place  of 
their  own  free  will  into  Officers  of  Order,  glad  not  only  to 
keep  the  regulations  of  the  place,  but  to  enforce  its  disci- 
pline upon  others. 

Again,  every  Colonist,  whether  in  the  City  or  elsewhere, 
would  know  that  those  who  took  the  interests  of  the  Colony 
*o  heart,  were  loyal  to  its  authority  and  principles,  and 
^abored  industriously  in  promoting  its  interests,  would  be 
rewarded  accordingly  by  promotion  to  positions  of  influence 
and  authority,  which  would  also  carry  with  them  temporal 
advantages,  present  and  prospective. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  831 

But  one  of  our  main  hopes  would  be  in  the  apprehension 
by  the  Colonists  of  the  fact  that  all  our  efforts  were  put 
forth  on  their  behalf.  Every  man  and  woman  on  the  place 
would  know  that  this  enterprise  was  begun  and  carried  on 
solely  for  their  benefit,  and  that  of  the  other  members  of 
their  class,  and  that  only  their  own  good  behavior  and  co- 
operation would  ensure  their  reaping  a  personal  share  in  such 
benefit.  Still  our  expectations  would  be  largely  based  on 
the  creation  of  a  spirit  of  unselfish  interest  in  the  commu- 
nity. 

IX. — Again-,  it  is  objected  that  the  Scheme  is  too  vast  to  he 
atte77ipied  by  voluntary  enterprise;  it  ought  to  be  taken  up  a?id 
carried  out  by  the  Government  itself. 

Perhaps  so,  but  there  is  no  very  near  probability  of  Gov- 
ernment undertaking  it,  and  we  are  not  quite  sure  whether 
such  an  attempt  would  prove  a  success  if  it  were  made. 
But  seeing  that  neither  Governments,  nor  society,  nor  indi- 
viduals have  stood  forward  to  undertake  what  God  has  made 
appear  to  us  to  be  so  vitally  important  a  work,  and  as  He 
has  given  us  the  willingness,  and  in  many  important  senses 
the  ability,  we  are  prepared,  if  the  financial  help  is  furnished, 
to  make  a  determined  effort,  not  only  to  undertake  but  to 
carry  it  forward  to  a  triumphant  success. 

X. — //  is  objected  that  the  classes  we  seek  to  benefit  are  too 
ignorant  and  depraved  for  Christian  effort,  or  for  effort  of  any 
kind,  to  reach  and  reform. 

Look  at  the  tramps,  the  drunkards,  the  harlots,  the  crim- 
inals. How  confirmed  they  are  in  their  idle  and  vicious 
habits.  It  will  be  said,  indeed  has  been  already  said  by 
those  with  whom  I  have  conversed,  that  I  don't  know  them; 
which  statement  cannot,  I  think,  be  maintained,  for  if  I 
don't  know  them,  who  does  ? 

I  admit,  however,  that  thousands  of  this  class  are  very 
far  gone  from  every  sentiment,  principle  and  practice  of 
right  conduct.     But  I  argue  that  these  poor  people  canotn 


333  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

bemuch  more  unfavorable  subjects  for  the  work  of  regen- 
eration than  are  many  of  the  savages  and  heathen  tribes,  in 
the  conversion  of  whom  Christians  universally  believe,  for 
whom  they  beg  large  sums  of  money,  and  to  whom  they 
send  their  best  and  bravest  people. 

These  poor  people  are  certainly  embraced  in  the  Divine 
plan  of  mercy.  To  their  class,  the  Saviour  especially  gave 
His  attention  when  He  was  on  the  earth,  and  for  them  He 
most  certainly  died  on  the  Cross. 

Some  of  the  best  examples  of  Christian  faith  and  practice, 
and  some  of  the  most  successful  workers  for  the  benefit  of 
mankind,  have  sprung  from  this  class,  of  which  we  have 
instances  recorded  in  the  Bible,  and  any  number  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Church  and  of  the  Salvation  Army. 

It  may  be  objected  that  while  this  Scheme  would 
undoubtedly  assist  one  class  of  the  community  by  making 
steady,  industrious  workmen,  it  must  thereby  injure  another 
class  by  introducing  so  many  new  hands  into  the  labor  mar- 
ket, already  so  seriously  overstocked. 

To  this  we  reply  that  there  is  certainly  an  appearance  of 
force  in  this  objection;  but  it  has,  I  think,  been  already 
answered  in  the  foregoing  pages.  Further,  if  the  increase 
of  workers,  which  this  Scheme  will  certainly  bring  about, 
was  the  beginning  and  end  of  it,  it  would  certainly  present 
a  somewhat  serious  aspect.  But,  even  on  that  supposition, 
I  don't  see  how  the  skilled  worker  could  leave  his  brothers 
to  rot  in  their  present  wretchedness,  though  their  rescue 
should  involve  the  sharing  of  a  portion  of  his  wages. 

(i)  But  there  is  no  such  danger,  seeing  that  the  number 
of  extra  hands  thrown  on  the  British  Labor  Market  must  be 
necessarily  inconsiderable. 

(2)  The  increased  production  of  food  in  our  Farm  and 
Colonial  operations  must  indirectly  benefit  the  working 
man. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT 


Section  5. — Recapitulation. 

I  have  now  passed  in  review  the  leading  features  of  the 
Scheme,  which  I  put  forward  as  one  that  is  calculated  to 
considerably  contribute  to  the  amelioration  of  the  condi- 
tion of  the  lowest  stratum  of  our  Society.  It  in  no  way 
professes  to  be  complete  in  all  its  details.  Anyone  may 
at  any  point  lay  his  finger  on  this,  that,  or  the  other 
feature  of  the  Scheme,  and  show  some  void  that  must  be 
filled  in  if  it  is  to  work  with  effect.  There  is  one  thing, 
however,  that  can  be  safely  said  in  excuse  for  the  short- 
comings of  the  Scheme,  and  that  is  that  if  you  wait  until 
you  get  an  ideally  perfect  plan  you  will  have  to  wait  until 
the  Millennmm,  and  then  you  will  not  need  it.  My  sug- 
gestions, crude  though  they  may  be,  have,  nevertheless, 
one  element  that  will  in  time  supply  all  deficiencies. 
There  is  life  in  them ;  with  life  there  is  the  promise 
and  power  of  adaption  to  all  the  innumerable  and  varying 
circumstances  of  the  class  with  which  we  have  to  deal. 
Where  there  is  life  there  is  infinite  power  of  adjustment. 
This  is  no  cast-iron  Scheme,  forged  in  a  single  brain,  and 
then  set  up  as  a  standard  to  which  all  must  conform.  It 
is  a  sturdy  plant,  which  has  its  roots  deep  down  in  the 
nature  and  circumstances  of  men.  Nay,  I  believe  in  the 
very  heart  of  God  Himself.  It  has  already  grown  much, 
and  will,  if  duly  nurtured  and  tended,  grow  still  further, 
until  from  it,  as  from  the  grain  and  mustard-seed  in  the 
parable,  there  shall  spring  up  a  great  tree  whose  branches 
shall  overshadow  all  the  earth. 

Once  more  let  me  say,  I  claim  no  patent  rights  in  any 
part  of  this  Scheme.  Indeed,  I  do  not  know  what  in  it 
is  original  and  what  is  not.  Since  formulating  some  of 
the  plans,  which  I  had  thought  were  new  under  the  sun,  I 
have  discovered   that   they  have   been    already    tried    in 


334  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

different  parts  of  the  world,  and  that  with  great  promise. 
It  may  be  so  with  others,  and  in  this  I  rejoice.  I  plead 
for  no  exclusiveness.  The  question  is  much  too  serious 
for  such  fooling  as  that.  Here  are  millions  of  our  fellow- 
creatures  perishing  amidst  the  breakers  of  the  sea  of  life, 
dashed  'to  pieces  on  sharp  rocks,  sucked  under  by  eddying 
whirlpools,  suffocated  even  when  they  think  they  have 
reached  land,  by  treacherous  quicksands ;  to  save  them 
from  this  imminent  destruction  I  suggest  that  these  things 
should  be  done  If  you  have  any  better  plan  than  mine  for 
effecting  this  purpose,  in  God's  name  bring  it  to  the  light 
and  get  it  carried  out  quickly.  If  you  have  not,  then  lend  me 
a  hand  with  mine,  as  I  would  be  only  too  glad  to  lend  you 
a  hand  with  yours  if  it  had  in  it  greater  promise  of  suc- 
cessful action  than  mine. 

In  a  Scheme  for  the  working  out  of  social  salvation 
the  great,  the  only,  test  that  is  worth  anything  is  the 
success  with  which  they  attain  the  object  with  which  they 
are  devised.  An  ugly  old  tub  of  a  boat  that  will  land  a 
shipwrecked  sailor  safe  on  the  beach  is  worth  more  to 
him  than  the  finest  yacht  that  ever  left  a  slip-way  incapa- 
ble of  effecting  the  same  object.  The  ^superfine  votaries 
of  culture  may  recoil  in  disgust  from  the  rough-and-ready 
suggestions  which  I  have  made  for  dealing  with  the 
Sunken  Tenth,  but  mere  recoiling  is  no  solution.  If  the 
cultured  and  the  respectable  and  the  orthodox  and  the 
established  dignitaries  and  conventionalities  of  Society 
pass  by  on  the  other  side  we  cannot  follow  their  example. 

We  may  not  be  priests  and  Levites,  but  we  can  at  least 
play  the  part  of  the  Good  Samaritan.  The  man  who  went 
down  to  Jericho  and  fell  among  thieves  was  probably 
a  very  improvident,  reckless  individual,  who  ought  to  have 
known  better  than  to  go  roaming  alone  through  defiles 
haunted  by  banditti,  whom  he  even  led  into  temptation 
by  the  careless  way  in  which  he  exposed   himself   and  his 


And  the  way  out  ^B 

goods  to  their  avaricious  gaze.  It  was,  no  doubt,  largely 
his  own  fault  that  he  lay  there  bruised  and  senseless,  and 
ready  to  perish,  just  as  it  is  largely  the  fault  of  those 
whom  we  seek  to  help  that  they  lie  in  the  helpless  plight 
in  which  we  find  them.  But  for  all  that,  let  us  bind  up 
their  wounds  with  such  balm  as  we  can  procure,  and, 
setting  them  on  our  ass,  let  us  take  them  to  our  Colony, 
where  they  may  have  time  to  recover,  and  once  more  set 
forth  on  our  journey  of  life. 

And  now,  having  said  this  much  by  way  of  reply  to 
some  of  my  critics,  I  will  recapitulate  the  salient  features 
of  the  Scheme.  I  laid  down  at  the  beginning  certain 
points  to  be  kept  in  view  as  embodying  those  invariable 
laws  or  principles  of  political  economy,  without  due 
regard  to  which  no  Scheme  can  hope  for  even  a  chance 
of  success.  Subject  to  these  conditions,  I  think  my 
Scheme  will  pass  muster.  It  is  large  enough  to  cope  with 
the  evils  that  will  confront  us ;  it  is  practicable,  for  it  is 
already  in  course  of  application,  and  it  is  capable  of  indefi- 
nite expansion.  But  it  would  be  better  to  pass  the  whole 
Scheme  in  its  more  salient  features  in  review    once  more. 

The  Scheme  will  seek  to  convey  benefit  to  the  destitute 
classes  in  various  ways  altogether  apart  from  their  entering 
the  Colonies.  Men  and  women  may  be  very  poor  and  in 
very  great  sorrow,  nay,  on  the  verge  of  actual  starvation, 
and  yet  be  so  circumstanced  as  to  be  unable  to  enroll 
themselves  in  the  Colonial  ranks.  To  these  our  cheap 
Food  Depots,  our  Advice  Bureau,  Labor  Shops  and 
other  agencies  will  prove  an  unspeakable  boon,  and  will 
be  likely  by  such  temporary  assistance  to  help  them  out 
of  the  deep  gulf  in  which  they  are  struggling.  Those 
who  need  permanent  assistance  will  be  passed  on  to  the 
City  Colony,  and  taken  directly  under  our  control.  Here 
they  will  be  employed  as  before  described.  Many  will  be 
sent  off  to  friends    work   will  be   found  for  others   in   the 


33G  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

City  or  elsewhere,  while  the  great  bulk,  after  reasonable 
testing  as  to  their  sincerity  and  willingness  to  assist  in 
their  own  salvation,  will  be  sent  on  to  the  Farm  Colonies, 
where  the  same  process  of  reformation  and  training  will 
be  continued,  and  unless  employment  is  otherwise 
obtained  they  will  then  be  passed  on  to  the  Over-Sea 
Colony. 

All  in  circumstances  of  destitution,  vice,  or  criminality 
will  receive  casual  assistance  or  be  taken  into  the  Colony, 
on  the  sole  conditions  of  their  being  anxious  for  deliver- 
ance, and  willing  to  work  for  it,  and  to  conform  to  dis- 
cipline, altogether  irrespective  of  character,  ability,  reli- 
gious opinions,  or  anything  else. 

No  benefit  will  be  conferred  upon  any  individual  except 
under  extraordinary  circumstances,  without  some  return 
being  made  in  labor.  Even  where  relatives  and  friends 
supply  money  to  the  Colonists,  the  latter  must  take  their 
share  of  work  with  their  comrades.  We  shall  not  have 
room  for  a  single  idler  throughout  all  our  borders. 

The  labor  allotted  to  each  individual  will  be  chosen  in 
view  of  his  past  employment  or  ability.  Those  who  have 
any  knowledge  of  agriculture  will  naturally  be  put  to 
work  on  the  land ;  the  shoemaker  will  make  shoes,  the 
weaver  cloth,  and  so  on.  And  when  there  is  no  knowl- 
edge of  any  handicraft,  the  aptitude  of  the  individual  and 
the  necessities  of  the  hour  will  suggest  the  sort  of  work 
it  would  be  most  profitable  for  such  an  one  to  learn. 

Work  of  all  descriptions  will  be  executed  as  far  as 
possible  by  hand  labor.  The  present  rage  for  machinery 
has  tended  to  produce  much  destitution  by  supplanting 
hand  labor  so  exclusively  that  the  rush  has  been  from  the 
human  to  the  machine.  We  want,  as  far  as  is  practicable, 
to  travel  back  from  the  machine  to  the  human. 

Each  member  of  the  colony  would  receive  food,  clothing, 
lodging,  medicine  and  all  necessary  care  in  case  of  sickness. 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  337 

No  wages  would  be  paid,  except  a  trifle  by  way  of 
encouragement  for  good  behavior  and  industry,  or  to  those 
occupying  positions  of  trust,  part  of  which  will  be  saved 
in  view  of  exigencies  in  our  Colonial  Bank,  and  the 
remainder  used  for  pocket  money. 

The  whole  Scheme  of  the  three  Colonies  will  for  all  prac- 
tical purposes  be  regarded  as  one ;  hence  the  training 
will  have  in  view  the  qualification  of  the  Colonists  for 
ultimately  earning  their  livelihood  in  the  world  altogether 
independently  of  our  assistance,  or,  failing  this,  fit  them 
for  taking  some  permanent  work  within  our  borders  either 
at  home  or  abroad. 

Another  result  of  this  unity  of  the  Town  and  Country 
Colonies  will  be  the  removal  of  one  of  the  difficulties  ever 
connected  with  the  disposal  of  the  products  of  unemployed 
labor.  The  food  from  the  Farm  would  be  consumed  by 
the  City,  while  many  of  the  things  manufactured  in  the 
City  would  be  consumed  on  the  Farm. 

The  continued  effort  of  all  concerned  in  the  reformation 
of  these  people  will  be  to  inspire  and  cultivate  those  habits, 
the  want  of  which  has  been  so  largely  the  cause  of  the 
destitution  and  vice  of  the  past. 

Strict  discipline,  involving  careful  and  continuous  over- 
sight, would  be  necessary  to  the  maintenance  of  order 
amongst  so  large  a  number  of  people,  many  of  whom  had 
hitherto  lived  a  wild  and  licentious  life.  Our  chief 
reliance  in  this  respect  would  be  upon  the  spirit  of  mutual 
interest  that  would  prevail. 

The  entire  Colony  would  probably  be  divided  into  sec- 
tions, each  under  the  supervision  of  a  sergeant — one  of 
themselves — working  side  by  side  with  them,  yet  respon- 
sible for  the  behavior  of  all. 

The  chief  officers  of  the  Colony  would  be  individuals 
who  had  given  themselves  to  the  work,  not  for  a  liveli- 
hood, but  from  a  desire  to  be  useful  to  the  suffering  poor. 
23 


§38  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

They  would  be  selected  at  the  outset  from  the  Army,  and 
that  on  the  ground  of  their  possessing  certain  capabilities 
for  the  position,  such  as  knowledge  of  the  particular  kind 
of  work  they  had  to  superintend,  or  their  being  good  dis- 
ciplinarians and  having  the  faculty  for  controlling  men  and 
being  themselves  influenced  by  a  spirit  of  love.  Ultimately 
the  Officers,  we  have  no  doubt,  would  be,  as  is  the  case 
in  all  our  other  operations,  men  and  women  raised  up 
from  the  Colonists  themselves,  and  who  will  consequently 
possess  some  special  qualifications  for  dealing  with  those 
they  have  to  superintend. 

The  Colonists  will  be  divided  into  two  classes  :   the  ist, 
the  class  which  receives  no  wages  will  consist  of : 

(a)  The   new   arrivals,    whose    ability,   character 
and  habits  are  as  yet  unknown. 

((5)  The  less  capable  in  strength,  mental  calibre, 
or  other  capacity. 

(r)  The  indolent,  and  those  whose    conduct    and 
character  appeared  doubtful.      These  would  remain  in 
this  class,  until  sufficiently  improved  for  advancement, 
or  are  pronounced  so  hopeless  as  to  jusitfy  expulsion. 
The  2nd  class  would  have    a    small   extra    allowance,  a 
part  of  which  would  be  given  to  the    workers    for    private 
use,  and  a  part  reserved  for  future  contingencies,  the  pay- 
ment of  traveling    expenses,    etc.,       From    this    class   we 
should  obtain  our  petty  officers,   send  out  hired  laborers, 
emigrants,  etc.,  etc. 

Such  is  the  Scheme  as  I  have  conceived  it.  Intelligently 
applied,  and  resolutely  persevered  in,  I  cannot  doubt  that 
it  will  produce  a  great  and  salutary  change  in  the  condi- 
tion of  many  of  the  most  hopeless  of  our  fellow  country- 
men. Nor  is  it  only  our  fellow  countrymen  to  whom  it 
is  capable  of  application.  In  its  salient  features^  with 
such  alterations  as  are  necessary,  owing  to  differences  of 
climate  and  of  race,  it  is  capable  of  adoption  in  every  city 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  339 

in  the  world,  for  it  is  an  attempt  to  restore  to  the  masses 
of  humanity  that  are  crowded  together  in  cities,  the  human 
and  natural  elements  of  life  which  they  possessed  when  they 
lived  in  the  smaller  unit  of  the  village  or  the  market  town. 
Of  the  extent  of  the  need  there  can  be  no  question.  It  is, 
perhaps,  greatest  in  London,  where  the  masses  of  popu- 
lation are  denser  than  those  of  any  other  city  ;  but  it  exists 
equally  in  the  chief  centres  of  population  in  the  new 
Englands  that  have  sprung  up  beyond  the  sea,  as  well  as 
in  the  larger  cities  of  Europe.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact 
that  up  to  the  present  moment  the  most  eager  welcome 
that  has  been  extended  to  this  Scheme  reaches  us  from 
Melbourne,  where  our  officers  have  been  compelled  to 
begin  operations  by  the  pressure  of  public  opinion  and  in 
compliance  with  the  urgent  entreaties  of  the  Government 
on  one  side  and  the  leaders  of  the  working  classes  on  the 
other,  before  the  plan  had  been  elaborated,  or  instructions 
could  be  sent  out  for  their  guidance. 

It  is  rather  strange  to  hear  of  distress  reaching  starva- 
tion point  in  a  city  like  Melbourne,  the  capital  of  a  great 
new  country  which  teems  with  natural  wealth  of  every 
kind.  But  Melbourne,  too,  has  its  unemployed,  and  in 
no  city  in  the  Empire  have  we  been  more  successful  in 
dealing  with  the  social  problem  than  in  the  capital  of 
Victoria.  The  Australian  papers  for  some  weeks  back 
have  been  filled  with  reports  of  the  dealings  of  the  Salva- 
tion Army  with  the  unemployed  of  Melbourne.  This  was 
before  the  great  Strike.  The  Government  of  Victoria 
practically  threw  upon  our  officers  the  task  of  dealing  with 
the  unemployed.  The  subject  was  debated  in  the  House 
of  Assembly,  and  at  the  close  of  the  debate  a  subscription 
was  taken  up  by  one  of  those  who  had  been  our  most 
strenuous  opponents,  and  a  sum  of  ^400  was  handed 
over  to  our  officers  to  dispense  in  keeping  the  starving 
from  perishing.      Our  people  have  found  situations  for  no 


340  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

fewer  than  1,776  persons,  and  are  dispensing  meals  at 
the  rate  of  700  a  day.  The  Government  of  Victoria  has 
long  been  taking  the  lead  in  recognizing  the  secular  uses 
of  the  Salvation  Army.  The  following  letter  addressed  by 
the  Minister  of  the  Interior  to  the  Officer  charged  with 
the  oversight  of  this  part  of  our  operations,  indicates  the 
estimation  in  which  we  are  held  : 

Government  of  Victoria,  Chief  Secretary's  Office, 

Melbourne. 

July  4th,  i88g. 
Superintendent  Salvation  Army  Rescue  Work. 

Sir: — In  compliance  with  your  request  for  a  letter  of 
introduction  which  may  be  of  use  to  you  in  England,  I 
have  much  pleasure  in  stating  from  reports  furnished  by 
Officers  of  my  Department,  I  am  convinced  that  the  work 
you  have  been  engaged  on  during  the  past  six  years  has 
been  of  material  advantage  to  the  community.  You  have 
rescued  from  crime  some  who,  but  for  the  counsel  and 
assistance  rendered  them,  might  have  been  a  permanent 
tax  upon  the  State,  and  you  have  restrained  from  further 
criminal  courses  others  who  had  already  suffered  legal 
punishment  for  their  misdeeds.  It  has  given  me  pleasure 
to  obtain  from  the  Executive  Council,  authority  for  you 
to  apprehend  children  found  in  Brothels,  and  to  take  charge 
of  such  children  after  formal  committal  Of  the  great 
value  of  this  branch  of  your  work  there  can  be  no  question. 
It  is  evident  that  the  attendance  of  yourself  and  your 
Officers  at  the  police-courts  and  lock-ups  has  been  attended 
with  beneficial  results,  and  your  invitation  to  our  largest 
jails  has  been  highly  approved  by  the  head  of  the  Depart- 
ment Generally  speaking,  I  may  say  that  your  policy 
and  procedure  have  been  commended  by  the  Chief  Officers 
of  the  Government  of  this  Colony,  who  have  observed 
your  work. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 

Your  obedient  Servant, 
(Signed)  Alfred  Deakin, 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  341 

The  Victorian  Parliament  has  voted  an  annual  grant  to 
our  funds,  not  as  a  religious  endowment,  but  in  recogni- 
tion of  the  service  which  we  render  in  the  reclamation  of 
criminals,  and  what  may  be  called,  if  I  may  use  a  word 
which  has  been  so  depraved  by  Continental  abuse,  the 
moral  police  of  the  city.  Our  Officer  in  Melbourne  has 
an  official  position  which  opens  to  him  almost  every  State 
institution  and  all  the  haunts  of  vice  where  it  may  be 
necessary  for  him  to  make  his  way  in  the  search  for  girls 
that  have  been  decoyed  from  home  or  who  have  fallen 
into  evil  courses. 

It  is  in  Victoria  also  that  a  system  prevails  of  handing 
over  first  offenders  to  the  care  of  the  Salvation  Army 
Officers,  placing  them  in  recognizance  to  come  up  when 
called  for.  An  Officer  of  the  Army  attends  at  every 
Police^  Court,  and  the  Prison  Brigade  is  always  on  guard 
at  the  jail  doors  when  the  prisoners  are  discharged.  Our 
Officers  also  have  free  access  to  the  prisons,  where  they 
can  conduct  services  and  labor  with  the  inmates  for  their 
salvation.  As  Victoria  is  probably  the  most  democratic 
of  our  colonies,  and  the  one  in  which  the  working-class 
has  supreme  control,  the  extent  to  which  it  has  by  its 
government  recognized  the  value  of  our  operations  is 
sufficient  to  indicate  that  we  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
opposition  of  the  democracy.  In  the  neighboring  colony 
of  New  South  Wales  a  lady  has  already  given  us  a  farm 
of  three  hundred  acres  fully  stocked,  on  which  to  begin 
operations  with  a  Farm  Colony,  and  there  seems  some 
prospect  that  the  Scheme  will  get  itself  into  active  shape 
at  the  other  end  of  the  world  before  it  is  set  agoing  in 
London.  The  eager  welcome  which  has  thus  forced  the 
initiative  upon  our  Officers  in  Melbourne  tends  to  encour- 
age the  expectation  that  the  Scheme  will  be  regarded  as 
no  quack  application,  but  will  be  generally  taken  up  and 
quickly  set  in  operation  all  round  the  world. 


34a  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  Practical  Conclusion. 

Throughout  this  book  I  have  more  constantly  used  the 
first  personal  pronoun  than  ever  before  in  anything  I 
have  written.  I  have  done  this  deliberately,  not  from 
egotism,  but  in  order  to  make  it  more  clearly  manifest  that 
here  is  a  definite  proposal  made  by  an  individual  who  is 
prepared,  if  the  means  are  furnished  him,  to  carry  it  out. 
At  the  same  time  I  want  it  to  be  clearly  understood  that  it 
is  not  my  own  strength,  nor  at  my  own  charge,  that  I 
propose  to  embark  upon  this  great  undertaking.  Unless 
God  wills  that  I  should  work  out  the  idea  which  I  believe 
He  has  given  me  the  conception,  nothing  can  come  of 
any  attempt  at  its  execution  but  confusion,  disaster  and 
disappointment.  But  if  it  be  His  will — and  whether  it 
is  or  not,  visible  and  manifest  tokens  will  soon  be  forth- 
coming— who  is  there  that  can  stand  against  it?  Trusting 
in  Him  for  guidance,  encouragement  and  support,  I  pro- 
pose at  once  to  enter  upon  this  formidable  campaign. 

I  do  not  run  without  being  called.  I  do  not  press  for- 
ward to  fill  this  breach  without  being  urgently  pushed 
from  behind.  Whether  or  not,  I  am  called  of  God,  as 
well  as  by  the  agonizing  cries  of  suffering  men  and  women 
and  children.  He  will  make  plain  to  me,  and  to  us  all ; 
for  as  Gideon  looked  for  a  sign  before  he,  at  the  bidding 
of  the  heavenly  messenger,  undertook  the  leading  of  the 
chosen  people  against  the  hosts  of  Midian,  even  so  do  I 
look  for  a  sign.  Gideon's  .sign  was  arbitrary.  He  selected 
it.  He  dictated  his  own  terms ;  and  out  of  compassion 
for  his  halting  faith,  a  sign  was  given  unto  him,  and  that 
twice  over.  First  his  fleece  was  dry  when  all  the  country 
round  was  drenched  with    dew ;  and,  secondly,  his    fleece 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  343 

was    drenched    with    dew   when   all     the    country    round 
was  dry. 

The  sign  for  which  I  ask  to  embolden  me  to  go  forward 
is  single,  not  double.  It  is  necessary  and  not  arbitrary, 
and  it  is  one  which  the  veriest  sceptic  or  the  most  cynical 
materialist  will  recognize  as  sufficient.  If  I  am  to  work 
out  the  Scheme  I  have  outlined  in  this  book,  I  must  have 
ample  means  for  doing  S3.  How  much  would  be  required 
to  establish  this  Plan  of  Campaign  in  all  its  fullness, 
overshadowing  all  the  land  with  its  branches  laden  with 
all  manner  of  pleasant  fruit,  I  cannot  even  venture  to 
form  a  conception.  But  I  have  a  definite  idea  as  to  how 
much  would  be  required  to  set  it  fairly  in  operation. 

Why  do  I  talk  about  commencing?  We  have  already 
begun,  and  that  with  considerable  effect.  Our  hand  has 
been  forced  by  circumstances.  The  mere  rumor  of  our 
undertaking  reaching  the  Antipodes,  as  before  described, 
called  forth  such  a  demonstration  of  approval  that  my 
Officers  there  were  compelled  to  begin  action  without 
waiting  orders  from  home.  In  this  country  we  have  been 
working  on  the  verge  of  the  deadly  morass  for  some  years 
gone  by,  and  not  without  marvelous  effect.  We  have  our 
Shelters,  our  Labor  Bureau,  our  factory,  our  Inquiry 
Officers,  our  Rescue  Homes,  our  Slum  Sisters,  and  other 
kindred  agencies,  all  in  good  going  order.  The  sphere 
of  these  operations  may  be  a  limited  one ;  still,  what  we 
have  done  already  is  ample  proof  that  when  I  propose  to 
do  much  more  I  am  not  speaking  without  my  book ;  and 
though  the  sign  I  ask  for  may  not  be  given,  I  shall  go 
struggling  forward  on  the  same  lines ;  still,  to  seriously 
take  in  hand  the  work  which  I  have  sketched  out — to  estab- 
lish this  triple  Colony,  with  all  its  affiliated  agencies,  I 
must  have,  at  least,  a  hundred  thousand  pounds. 

A  hundred  thousand  pounds  !     That  is  the  dew    on  my 
fleece.     It  is  not  much  considering  the  money  that  is  raised 


§44  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

by  my  poor  people  for  the  wofk  of  the  Salvation  Army. 
The  proceeds  of  the  Self-denial  Week  alone  last  year 
brought  us  in  ;^2o,ooo.  This  year  it  will  not  fall  short  of 
^25,000.  If  our  poor  people  can  do  so  much  out  of  their 
poverty,  I  do  not  think  I  am  making  an  extravagant 
demand  when  I  ask  that  out  of  the  millions  of  the  wealth 
of  the  world  I  raise,  as  a  first  instalment,  a  hundred 
thousand  pounds,  and  say  that  I  cannot  consider  myself 
effectually  called  to  undertake  this  work  unless  it  is  forth- 
coming. 

It  is  in  no  spirit  of  dictation  or  arrogance  that  I  ask 
the  sign.  It  is  a  necessity.  Even  Moses  could  not  have 
taken  the  Children  of  Israel  dry-shod  through  the  Red  Sea 
unless  the  waves  had  divided.  That  was  the  sign  which 
marked  out  his  duty,  aided  his  faith  and  determined  his 
action.  The  sign  which  I  seek  is  somewhat  similar. 
Money  is  not  everything.  It  is  not  by  any  means  the 
main  thing.  Midas,  with  all  his  millions,  could  no  more 
do  the  work  than  he  could  win  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  or 
hold  the  Pass  of  Thermopylae.  But  the  millions  of  Midas 
are  capable  of  accomplishing  great  and  mighty  things,  if 
they  be  sent  about  doing  good  under  the  direction  of 
Divine  wisdom  and  Christ-like  love. 

How  hardly  shall  they  that  have  riches  enter  into  the 
Kingdom  of  heaven  !  It  is  easier  to  make  a  hundred  poor 
men  sacrifice  their  lives  than  it  is  to  induce  one  rich  man 
to  sacrifice  his  fortune,  or  even  a  portion  of  it,  to  a  cause 
in  which,  in  his  half-hearted  fashion,  he  seems  to  believe. 
When  I  look  over  the  roll  of  men  and  women  who  have 
given  up  friends,  parents,  home  prospects  and  everything 
they  possess  in  order  to  walk  bare-footed  beneath  a  burn- 
ing sun  in  distant  India,  to  live  on  a  handful  of  rice,  and 
die  in  the  midst  of  the  dark  heathen  for  God  and  the 
Salvation  Army,  I  sometimes  marvel  how  it  is  that  they 
should   be  so   eager   to   give  up  all,  even  life  itself,  in    a 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  345 

cause  which  has  not  power  enough  in  it  to  induce  any 
reasonable  number  of  wealthy  men  to  give  to  it  the  mere 
superfluities  and  luxuries  of  their  existence.  From  those 
to  whom  much  is  given  much  is  expected ;  but,  alas,  alas, 
how  little  is  realized !  It  is  still  the  widow  who  casts 
her  all  into  the  Lord's,  treasury — the  wealthy  deem  it  a 
preposterous  suggestion  when  we  allude  to  the  Lord's 
tithe,  and  count  it  boredom  when  we  ask  only  for  the 
crumbs  that  fall  from  their  tables. 

Those  who  have  followed  me  thus  far  will  decide  for 
themselves  to  what  extent  they  ought  to  help  me  to  carry 
out  this  Project,  or  whether  they  ought  to  help  me  at  all. 
I  do  not  think  that  any  sectarian  differences  or  religious 
feelings  whatever  ought  to  be  imported  into  this  question. 
Supposing  you  do  not  like  my  Salvationism,  surely  it  is 
better  for  these  miserable,  wretched  crowds  to  have  food 
to  eat,  clothes  to  wear,  and  a  home  in  which  to  lay  their 
weary  bones  after  their  days  toil  is  done,  even  though 
the  change  is  accompanied  by  some  peculiar  religious 
notions  and  practices,  than  it  would  be  for  them  to  be 
hungry,  and  naked,  and  homeless,  and  possess  no  religion 
at  all.  It  must  be  infinitely  preferable  that  they  should 
speak  the  truth,  and  be  virtuous,  industrious  and  con- 
tented, even  if  they  do  pray  to  God,  sing  Psalms,  and  go 
about  with  red  jerseys,  fanatically,  as  you  call  it,  "seeking 
for  the  millennium" — than  that  they  should  remain  thieves 
or  harlots,  with  no  belief  in  God  at  all,  a  burden  to  the 
Municipality,  a  curse  to  Society,  and  a  danger  to  the 
State. 

That  you  do  not  like  the  Salvation  Army,  I  venture  to 
say,  is  no  justification  for  withholding  your  sympathy 
and  practical  co-operation  in  carrying  out  a  Scheme  which 
promises  so  much  blessedness  to  your  fellow- men.  You 
may  not  like  our  government,  our  methods,  our  faith. 
Your  feeling  towards  us  might  perhaps  be  duly  described 


346  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

by  an  observation  that  slipped  unwittingly  from  the  tongue 
of  a  somewhat  celebrated  leader  in  the  evangelistic  world 
some  time  ago,  who,  when  asked  what  he  thought  of  the 
Salvation  Army,  replied  that  "He  did  not  like  it  at  all,  but 
he  believed  that  God  Almighty  did. '  Perhaps,  as  an 
agency,  we  may  not  be  exactly  of  your  way  of  thinking, 
but  that  is  hardly  the  question.  Look  at  that  dark  ocean, 
full  of  human  wrecks,  writhing  in  anguish  and  despair. 
How  to  rescue  those  unfortunates  is  the  question  The 
particular  character  of  the  methods  employed,  the  peculiar 
uniforms  worn  by  the  life-boat  crew,  the  noises  made  by 
the  rocket  apparatus,  and  the  mingled  shoutings  of  the 
rescued  and  the  rescuers,  may  all  be  contrary  to  your  taste 
and  traditions.  But  all  these  objections  and  antipathies, 
I  submit,  are  as  nothing  compared  with  the  delivering  of 
the  people  out  of  that  dark  sea. 

If  among  my  readers  there  be  any  who  have  the  least 
conception  that  this  scheme  is  put  forward  by  me  from 
any  interested  motives,  by  all  means  let  them  refuse  to 
contribute  even  by  a  single  penny  to  what  would  be,  at 
least,  one  of  the  most  shameless  of  shams.  There  may 
be  those  who  are  able  to  imagine  that  men  who  have 
been  literally  martyred  in  this  cause  have  faced  their  death 
for  the  sake  of  the  paltry  coppers  they  collected  to  keep  body 
and  soul  together.  Such  may  possibly  find  no  difficulty 
in  persuading  themselves  that  this  is  but  another  attempt 
to  raise  money  to  augment  that  mythical  fortune  which  I, 
who  never  yet  drew  a  penny  beyond  mere  out-of-pocket 
expenses  from  the  Salvation  Army  funds,  am  supposed  to 
be  accumulating.  From  all  such  I  ask  only  the  tribute 
of  their  abuse,  assured  that  the  worst  they  say  of  me  is 
too  mild  to  describe  the  infamy  of  my  conduct  if  they  are 
correct  in  this  interpretation  of  my  motives. 

There  appears  to  me  to  be  only  two  reasons  that  will 
justify  any  man,  with  a  heart  in  his  bosom,  in  refusing  to 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  Wt 

co-opefate  with  me  in  this  Scheme : 

1.  That  he  should  have  an  honest  and  intelligent  cotiviction 
that  it  cannot  be  carried  out  with  any  reasonable  measure  of 
success;  or 

2.  That  he  (^t he  objector'^  is  prepared  with  some  other  plan 
which  will  as  effectually  accomplish  the  end  it  contemplates. 

Let  me  consider  the  second  reason  first.  If  it  be  that 
you  have  some  plan  that  promises  more  directly  to  accom- 
plish the  deliverance  of  these  multitudes  than  mine,  I 
implore  you  at  once  to  bring  it  out.  Let  it  see  the  light 
of  day.  Let  us  not  only  hear  your  theory,  but  see  the 
evidences  which  prove  its  practical  character  and  assure 
its  success.  If  your  plan  will  bear  investigation,  I  shall 
then  consider  you  to  be  relieved  from  the  obligation  to 
assist  me — nay,  if  after  full  consideration  of  your  plan  I 
find  it  better  than  mine,  I  will  give  up  mine,  turn  to,  and 
help  you  with  all  my  might.  But  if  you  have  nothing  to 
offer,  I  demand  your  help  in  the  name  of  those  whose 
cause  I  plead. 

Now,  then,  for  your  first  objection,  which  I  suppose  can 
be  expressed  in  one  word — "impossible."  This,  if  well 
founded,  is  equally  fatal  to  my  proposals.  But,  in  reply, 
I  may  say — How  do  you  know?  Have  you  inquired?  I 
will  assume  that  you  have  read  the  book,  and  duly  con- 
sidered it.  Surely  you  would  not  dismiss  so  important  a 
theme  without  some  thought.  And  though  my  arguments 
may  not  have  sufficient  weight  to  carry  conviction,  you 
must  admit  them  to  be  of  sufficient  importance  to  warrant 
investigation.  Will  you  therefore  come  and  see  for  your- 
self what  has  been  done  already,  or,  rather,  what  we  are 
doing  to-day.  Failing  this,  will  you  send  some  one  capa- 
ble of  judging  on  your  behalf.  I  do  not  care  very  much 
whom  you  send.  It  is  true  the  things  of  the  Spirit  are 
spiritually  discerned,  but  the  things  ol  humanity  any  man 
can  judge,  whether  saint  or   sinner,  it   he   only   possesses 


348  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

average  intelligence  and  ordinary  bowels  of  compassion. 

I  should,  however,  if  I  had  a  choice,  prefer  an  investi- 
gator who  has  some  practical  knowledge  of  social  econom- 
ics, and  much  more  should  I  be  pleased  if  he  had  spent 
some  of  his  own  time  and  a  little  of  his  own  money  in 
trying  to  do  the  work  himself.  After  such  investigation 
I  am  confident  there  could  be  only  one  result. 

There  is  one  more  plea  I  have  to  offer  to  those  who 
might  seek  to  excuse  themselves  from  rendering  any 
financial  assistance  to  the  Scheme.  Is  it  ?iot  worthy,  at 
least,  of  being  tried  as  an  experime7it?  Tens  of  thousands 
of  pounds  are  yearly  spent  in  "trying"  for  minerals,  boring 
for  coals,  sinking  for  water,  and  I  believe  there  are  those 
who  think  it  worth  while,  at  an  expenditure  of  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  pounds,  to  experiment  in  order  to  test  the 
possibility  of  making  a  tunnel  under  the  sea  between  this 
country  and  France.  Should  these  adventurers  fail  in 
their  vaired  operations,  they  have,  at  least,  the  satisfaction 
of  knowing,  though  hundreds  of  thousands  of  pounds  have 
been  expended,  that  they  have  not  been  wasted,  and  they  will 
not  complain ;  because  they  have  at  least  attempted  the 
accomplishment  of  that  which  they  felt  ought  to  be  done  ; 
and  it  must  be  better  to  attempt  a  duty,  though  we  fail, 
than  never  attempt  it  at  all.  In  this  book  we  do  think 
we  have  presented  a  sufficient  reason  to  justify  the  expen- 
diture of  the  money  and  effort  involved  in  the  makmg  of 
this  experiment.  And  though  the  effort  should  not  termi- 
nate in  the  grand  success  which  I  so  confidently  predict, 
and  which  we  all  must  so  ardently  desire,  still  there  is 
bound  to  be,  not  only  the  satisfaction  of  having  attempted 
some  sort  of  deliverance  for  these  wretched  people,  but 
certain  results  which  will  amply  repay  every  farthing 
expended  in  the  experiment.  I  am  now  sixty-one  years  of 
age.  The  last  eighteen  months,  during  which  the  contin- 
ual partner  of  all  my  activities  for  now  nearly   forty  years 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  349 

has  laid  in  the  arms  of  unspeakable  suffering,  has  added 
more  than  many,  many  former  ones,  to  the  exhaustion  of  my 
term  of  service.  I  feel  already  something  of  the  pressure 
which  led  the  dying  emperor  of  Germany  to  say,  "I  have 
no  time  to  be  weary.  '  If  I  am  to  see  the  accomplishment 
in  any  considerable  degree  of  these  life-long  hopes,  I  must 
be  enabled  to  embark  upon  the  enterprise  without  dela}/, 
and  with  the  world-wide  burden  constantly  upon  me  in 
connection  with  the  universal  mission  of  our  Army  I  can- 
not be  expected  to  struggle  in  this  matter    alone. 

But  I  trust  that  the  upper  and  middle  classes  are  at  last 
being  awakened  out  of  their  long  slumber  with  regard  to 
the  permanent  improvement  of  the  lot  of  those  who  have 
hitherto  been  regarded  as  being  forever  abandoned  and 
hopeless.  Shame  indeed  upon  England  if,  with  the 
example  presented  to  us  nowadaj^s  by  the  Emperor  and 
Government  of  Germany,  we  simply  shrug  our  shoulders, 
and  pass  on  again  to  our  business  or  our  pleasure  leaving 
these  wretched  multitudes  in  the  gutters  where  Ihey  have 
lain  so  long.  No,  no,  no ;  time  is  short.  Let  us  arise 
in  the  name  of  God  and  humanity,  axid  wipe  away  the 
said  stigma  from  the  British  banner  that  our  horses  are 
better  treated  than  our  laborers. 

It  will  be  seen  that  this  Scheme  contains  many  branches. 

It  is  probable  that  some  of  my  readers  may  not  be  able 
to  endorse  the  plan  as  a  whole,  while  heartily  approving 
of  some  of  its  features ;  and  to  the  support  of  what  they 
do  not  heartily  approve  they  may  not  be  willing  to  sub- 
scribe. Where  this  is  so,  we  shall  be  glad  for  them  to 
assist  us  in  carrying  out  these  portions  of  the  undertaking 
which  more  especially  command  their  sympathy  and  com- 
mend themselves  to  their  judgment.  For  instance,  one 
man  may  believe  in  the  Over-Sea  Colony,  but  feel  no 
interest  in  the  inebriate's  home ;  another,  who  may  not 
care  for  emigration,  may  desire  to  furnish  a   Factory  or  a 


S50  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

Rescue  Home;  a  third  may  wish  to  give  us  an  estate, 
assist  in  the  food  and  Shelter  work,  or  the  extension  of 
the  Slum  brigade.  Now,  atthough  I  regard  the  Scheme  as 
one  and  indivisible — from  which  you  cannot  take  away  any 
portion  without  impairing  the  prospect  of  the  whole — it  is 
quite  practicable  to  administer  the  money  subscribed  so 
that  the  wishes  of  each  donor  may  be  carried  out.  Sub- 
scriptions may  therefore,  be  sent  in  for  the  General  Fund 
of  the  Social  Scheme,  or  they  can  be  devoted  to  any  of 
the  following  distinct  funds  : 


1.  The  City  Colony. 

2.  The  Farm  Colony. 

3.  The  Over-Sea  Colony. 

4.  The  Household  Salvage 

Brigade. 

5.  The  Rescue  Homes  for 

Fallen  Women. 


6.  Deliverance  for    the 

Drunkard. 

7.  The   Prison  Gate  Bri- 

gade. 

8.  The  Poor  Man's  Bank. 

9.  ThePoor  Man's  Lawyer 
10.   Whitechapel-by-  the 

Sea. 


Or  any  other  department  suggested  by  the  fore- 
going. 

In  making  this  appeal  I  have,  so  far,  addressed  myself 
chiefly  to  those  who  have  money ;  but  money,  indispen- 
sable as  it    is,  has   never   been   the    thing    most    needful. 

Money  is  the  sinews  of  war ;  and,  as  society  is  at 
present  constituted,  neither  carnal  nor  spiritual  wars  can 
be  carried  on  without  money.  But  there  is  something 
more  necessary  still.  War  cannot  be  waged  without 
soldiers.  A  Wellington  can  do  far  more  in  a  campaign 
than  a  Rothschild.  More  than  money — a  long,  long  way — 
I  want  men  j  and  when  I  say  men,  I  mean  women  also 
— men  of  experience,  men  of  brains,  men  of  heart,  and 
men  of  God. 

In  this  great  expedition,  though  I  am  starting  for 
territory    which    is    familiar    enough,  I    am,  in    a    certain 


AND  THE  WAY  OUT  351 

sense,  entering  an  unknown  land.  My  people  will  be 
new  at  it.  We  have  trained  our  soldiers  to  the  saving  of 
souls,  we  have  taught  them  knee-drill,  we  have  in- 
structed them  in  the  art  and  mystery  of  dealing  with 
the  consciences  and  hearts  of  men ;  and  that  will  ever 
continue  the  main  business  of  their  lives.  To  save 
the  soul,  to  regenerate  the  life,  and  to  inspire  the 
spirit  with  the  undying  love  of  Christ  is  the  work  to  which 
all  other  duties  must  ever  be  strictly  subordinate  in  the 
soldiers  of  the  Salvation  Army.  But  the  new  sphere  on 
which  we  are  entering  will  call  for  faculties  other  than 
those  which  have  hitherto  been  cultivated,  and  for  knowl- 
edge of  a  different  character;  and  those  who  have  these 
gifts,  and  who  are  possessed  of  this  practical  information , 
will  be  sorely  needed. 

Already  our  world-wide  Salvation  work  engrosses  the 
energies  of  every  Officer  whom  we  command-  With  its 
extension  we  have  the  greatest  difBculty  to  keep  pace ; 
and,  when  this  Scheme  has  to  be  practically  grappled  with, 
we  shall  be  in  greater  straits  than  ever.  True,  it  will  find 
employment  for  a  multitude  of  energies  and  talents  which 
are  now  lying  dormant  but,  nevertheless,  this  extension 
will  tax  our  resources  to  the  very  utmost  In  view  of  this, 
reinforcements  will  be  indispensable.  We  shall  need  the 
best  brains,  the  largest  experience,  and  the  most  undaun- 
ted energy  of  the   community. 

I  want  Recruits,  but  I  cannot  soften  the  conditions  in 
order  to  attract  men  to  the  Colors.  I  want  no  comrades 
on  these  terms,  but  those  who  know  our  rules  and  are 
prepared  to  submit  to  our  discipline ;  who  are  one  with 
us  on  the  great  principles  which  determine  our  action, 
and  whose  hearts  are  in  this  great  work  for  the  ameliora- 
tion of  the  hard  lot  of  the  lapsed  and  lost.  These  I  will 
welcome  to  the  service. 

It  may  be  that  you  cannot  deliver  an  open-air    address, 


352  IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 

or  conduct  an  indoor  meeting.  Public  labor  for  souls  has 
hitherto  been  outside  your  practice.  In  the  Lord's  vine- 
yard, however,  are  many  laborers,  and  all  are  not  needed 
to  do  the  same  thing.  If  you  have  a  practical  acquaintance 
with  any  of  the  varied  operations  of  which  I  have  spoken  in 
this  book ;  if  you  are  familiar  with  agriculture,  under- 
stand the  building  trade,  or  have  a  practical  knowledge 
of  almost  any  form  of  manufacture,  there  is  a  place  for 
you. 

We  cannot  offer  you  great  pay,  social  position,  or  any 
glitter  and  tinsel  of  man's  glory ;  in  fact,  we  can  promise 
little  more  than  rations,  plenty  of  hard  work,  and  probably 
no  little  of  worldly  scorn ;  but  if  on  the  whole  you  believe 
you  can  in  no  other  way  help  your  Lord  so  well  and  bless 
humanity  so  much,  you  will  brave  the  opposition  of 
friends,  abandon  earthly  prospects,  trample  pride  under 
foot,  and  come  out  and  follow    Him    /;/  this  New  Crusade, 

To  you  who  believe  in  the  remedy  here  proposed,  and 
the  soundness  of  these  plans,  and  have  the  ability  to 
assist  me,  I  now  confidently  appeal  for  practical  evidence 
of  the  faith  that  is  in  you.  The  responsibility  is  no  longer 
mine  alone.  It  is  yours  as  much  as  mine.  It  is  yours 
even  more  than  mine  if  you  withhold  the  m^eans  by  which 
I  may  carry  out  the  Scheme.  I  give  what  I  have.  If 
you  give  what  you  have  the  work  will  be  done.  If  it  is 
not  done,  and  the  dark  river  of  wretchedness  rolls  on,  as 
wide  and  deep  as  ever,  the  consequences  will  lie  at  the 
door  of  him  who  holds  back. 

I  am  only  one  man  among  my  fellows,  the  same  as  you. 
The  obligation  to  care  for  these  lost  and  perishing  multi- 
tudes does  not  rest  on  me  any  more  than  it  does  on  you. 
To  me  has  been  given  the  idea,  but  to  you  the  means  by 
which  it  may  be  realized.  The  Plan  has  now  been  pub- 
lished to  the  world ;  it  is  for  you  to  say  whether  it  is  to 
remain  barren,  or  whether  it  is  to  bear  fruit  in  unnumbered 
blessings  to  all  the  children  of  men. 


APPENDIX 


APPENDIX. 


1.  The  Salvation  Army— A  Sketch— The  position  of  the  Forces,  October,  1890. 

2.  Circular,  Registration  Forms,  and  Notices  now  issued  by  the  Labor  Bureau. 

3.  Count  Rumford's  Bavarian  Experience. 

4.  The  Co-operative  Experiment  at  Ralahine. 

5.  Mr.  Carlyle  on  the  Regimentation  of  the  Out-of-Works. 
i,  '«  Christianity  and  Civilization"  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Barry,- 


APPENDIX. 


THE    SALVATION     ARMY. 


THE  POSITION  OF  OUR  FORCES 
October,  1890. 


o 

C/1 

ll 

o 

c/} 

Q. 
;-i 
O 
U 

The  United  Kingdom.  ,1375 

France |    ^^^ 

Switzerland f   ^°° 

Sweden .   103 

United  States 363 

Canada 317 

Australia — 

Victor  - ■) 

South  Australia I 

New  South  Wales  .  J-  270 

Tasmania I 

Queensland J 

New  Zealand 65 

India )      o 

Ceylon f     ^ 

Holland 40 

Denmark 33 

Norway  45 

Germany 16 

Belgium 4 

Finland 3 

The  Argentine  Republic     2 
South    Africa    and    St. 
Helena 52 

Total  abroad 1499 

Grand  total 2874 


So 


0. 

0 

— 

4506 

72 

352 

41 

328 
1066 
1021 

465 


903 


99 

186 

51 

419 

8 

131 
87 

132 
75 
21 

— 

12 

— 

15 

12 

162 

896 

4910 

896 

9416 

THE  SUPPLY  ('TRADE")  DEPART. 
MENT 

At  Home.  Abroad. 
Buildings  occupied.   .     .     8  22 

Ofl&cers 53  15 

Employes 207  55 

Total .260  70 

THE  PROPERTY  DEPARTMENT. 

PROPERTY  NOW  VESTED  IN  THE  ARMY. 

The  United  Kingdom £377.500 

France  and  Switzerland.       , ,    , .  10,000 

Sweden., 13,598 

Norway 11,676 

The  United  States ....       ..  6,601 

Canada .  98,728 

Australia 86,251 

New  Zealand ...       ..  14,798 

India ...       ,   . .  5,537 

Holland   .     7,188 

Denmark.     .   .,..     ...    ..   ......  2,340 

South  Africa. , 10,401 

Total £644,618 

Value  of  trade  effects,  stock,  machinery 
and  goods  on  hand,  £130,000  additional 

SOCIAL  WORK  OF  THE  ARMY. 

Rescue  Homes  (fallen  women) 33 

Slum  Posts 33 

Prison  Gate  Brigades .  . .  10 

Food  Depots.       .   .  .... 4 

Shelters  for  the  Destitute 5 

Inebriates'    Home...  i 

Factory  for  the  Out-of-Work 1 

Labor  Bureaus  .....  . .     2 

OflScers  and  others   managing  those 
branches .384 


ii  APPENDIX 

SALVATION  AND  SOCIAL  REFORM  LITERATURE. 

At  home.      Abroad.     Circulation' 

Weekly  Newspapers 3  24  31,000,000 

Monthly  Magazines 3  12  2,400,000 


Total 6  36  33,400,000 


Total  annual  circulation  of  the  above 33,400,000 

Total  annual  circulation  of  other  publications 4,000,000 


Total  annual  circulation  of  Army  literature 37,400,000 

The  United  Kingdom — 

"The  War  Cry" , 300,000  weekly. 

"The  Young  Soldier" 126,750        " 

"All  the  World" 50,000  monthly. 

"The  Deliverer" 48,000       " 

GENERAL  STATEMENTS  AND  STATISTICS. 


Training  Garrisons  for  Officers  (United  Kingdom) 28 

"         (Abroad) 28 

Large  vans  for  Evangelizing  the  village  (known  as  Cavalry  forts)  7 

Homes  of  rest  for  Officers 24 

Indoor  Meetings,  held  weekly 

Open-air  Meetings  held  weekly(chiefly  in  England  and  colonies) 


Total  Meetings  held  weekly. 


Accom- 
modation. 

Annual 
cost. 

400 
760 

£11,500 

240 
28,351 
21,467 

10,000 

49,818 

Number  of  Houses  visited  weekly  (Great  Britain  onlyl 54,000 

Number  of  Countries  and  Colonies  occupied 34 

Number  of  Languages  in  which  Literature  is  issued 15 

Number  of  Languages  in  which  Salvation  is  preached  by  the  Officers      29 

Number  of  Local  (Non-Commissioned  Officers)  and  Bandsmen 23,069 

Number  of  Scribes  and  Office  Employees 471 

Sum  raised  annually  from  all  sources  by  the  Army £750,000 

Average  weekly  reception  of  telegrams,  600,  and  letters  5,400,  at  the  London  head- 
quarters. 

Balance  Sheets,  duly  audited  by  chartered  accountants,  are  issued  annually  in 
connection  with  the  International  Headquarters.  See  the  Annual  Report  of  1889— 
"Apostolic  Warfare." 

Balance  sheets  are  also  produced  quarterly  at  every  Corps  in  the  world,  audited 
and  signed  by  the  Local  Officers.  Divisional  Balance  Sheets  issued  monthly  and 
audited  by  a  Special  Department  at  Headquarters. 

Duly  and  independently  audited  Balance  Sheets  are  also  issued  annually  from 
every  Territorial  Headquarters. 

THE  AUXILIARY   LEAGUE. 

The  Salvation  Army  International  Auxiliary  League  is  Composed 

I. — Of  persons  who,  without  necessarily  endorsing  or  approving  of  every  single 

method  used  by  the  Salvation  Army,  are  sufficiently  in  sympathy  with  its  great  work  of 

reclaiming  drunkards,  rescuing  the  fallen — in  a  word,  saving  the  lost — as   to  give  it 

their  PRAYERS,  influence  and  money. 


APPENDIX  iii 

2.— Of  persons  who,  although  seeing  eye  to  eye  with  the  Army,  yet  are  unable  to 
join  it,  owing  to  being  actively  engaged  in  the  work  of  their  own  denominations,  or  by 
reason  of  bad  health  or  other  infirmities,  which  forbid  their  taking  any  active  part  in 
Christi-.n  work.     Persons  are  enrolled  either  as  Subscribing  of  Collecting  Auxilaries. 

The  League  comprises  persons  of  influence  and  position,  members  of  nearly 
all  denominations  and  many  ministers. 

PAMPHLETS. 

Auxiliaries  will  always  be  supplied  gratis  with  copies  of  our  Annual  Report  and 
Balance  Sheets  and  other  pamphlets  for  distribution  on  application  to  Headquarters 
Some  of  our  -Auxiliaries  have  materially  helped  us  in  this  way  by  distributing  our 
literature  at  the  seaside  and  elsewhere,  and  by  making  arrangements  for  the  regular 
supply  of  waiting  rooms,  hydropathics  and  hotels,  thus  helping  to  dispel  the  prejudice 
under  which  many  persons  unacquainted  with  the  Army  are  found  to  labor. 

"All  The  World  "  is  posted  free  regularly  each  month  to  Auxiliaries. 

For  further  information,  and  for  full  particulars  of  the  work  of  the  Salvation 
Army,  apply  personally  or  by  letter  to  GENERAL  BOOTH,  or  to  the  Financial  Sec- 
retary at  International  Headquarters,  loi  Queen  Victoria  St.,  London,  E.  C,  to  whom 
also  contributions  should  be  sent. 

Checks  and  Postal  Orders  crossed  "City  Bank." 


THE  SALVATION  ARMY:  A  SKETCH. 

BY    AN    OFFICER    OF    SEVENTEEN    YEARS'    STANDING 

What  is  the  Salvation  Army? 


It  is  an  Organization  existing  to  effect  a  radical  revolution  in  the  spiritual  condition 
of  the  enormous  majority  of  the  people  of  all  lands.  Its  aim  is  to  produce  a  change 
not  only  in  the  opinions,  feelings  and  principles  of  these  vast  populations,  but  to  alter 
the  whole  course  of  their  lives,  so  that  instead  of  spending  their  time  in  frivolity  and 
pleasure-seeking,  if  not  in  the  grossest  forms  of  vice,  they  shall  spend  it  in  the  service 
of  their  generation  and  in  the  v^orship  of  God.  So  far  it  has  mainly  operated  in  pro- 
fessedly Christian  countries,  where  the  overwhelming  majority  of  the  people  have 
ceased,  publicly,  at  any  rate,  to  worship  Jesus  Christ,  or  to  submit  themselves  in  any 
way  to  His  authority.     To  what  extent  has  the  Army  suceeded? 

Its  flag  is  now  flying  in  34  countries  or  colonies,  where,  under  the  leadership  of 
nearly  10,000  men  and  women,  whose  lives  are  entirely  given  up  to  the  work,  it  is  hold- 
ing some  49,800  religious  meetings  every  week,  attended  by  millions  of  persons,  who 
ten  years  ago  would  have  laughed  at  the  idea  of  praying.  And  these  operations  are 
but  the  means  for  further  extension,  as  will  be  seen,  especially  when  it  is  remembered 
Jhat  the  Army  has  its  27  weekly  newspapers,  of  which  no  less  than  31,000,000  copies  are 
sold  in  the  streets,  public-houses,  and  popular  resorts  of  the  godless  majority.  From 
its  ranks,  it  is  therefore  certain  that  an  ever-increasing  multitude  of  men  and  women 
must  eventually  be  won. 

That  all  this  has  not  amounted  to  the  creation  of  a  mere  passing  gust  of  feeling,  may 
best  be  demonstrated  perhaps  from  the  fact  that  the  Army  has  accumulated  no  less 
than  3(^775,000  worth  of  property,  pays  rentals  amounting  to  5^220,000  per  annum  for  its 
meeting  places,  and  has  a  total  income  from  all  sources  of  three-quarters  of  a  million 
per  annum. 

Now  consider  from  whence  all  this  has  sprung. 

It  is  only  twenty-five  years  since  the  author  of  this  volume  stood  absolutely  alone  in 
the  East  of  London,  to  endeavor  to  Christianize  its  irreligious  multitudes,  without  the 
remotest  conception  in  his  own  mind  of  the  possibility  of  any  such  Organization  being 
created. 

Consider,  moreover,  through  what  opposition  the  Salvation  Army  has  ever  had  to 
ipake  its  way. 

iV 


APPENDIX  V 

In  each  country  it  has  to  face  universal  prejudice,distrust,and  contempt.and  often 
stronger  antipathy  still.  This  opposition  has  generally  found  expression  in  systematic, 
Governmental,  and  Police  restriction,  followed  in  too  many  cases  by  imprisonment, 
and  by  the  condemnatory  outpourings  of  Bishops,  Clergy,  Pressmen  and  others, 
naturally  followed  in  too  many  instances  by  the  oaths  and  curses,  the  blows  and  insults 
of  the  populace.  Through  all  this,  in  country  after  country,  the  Army  makes  its  way 
to  the  position  of  universal  respect,  that  respect,  at  any  rate,  which  is  shown  to  those 
who  have  conquered. 

And  of  what  material  has  this  conquering  host  been  made? 

Wherever  the  Army  goes  it  gathers  into  its  meetings,  in  the  first  instance,  a  crowd 
of  the  most  debased,  brutal,  blasphemous  elements  that  can  be  found  who,  if  permitted, 
interrupt  the  services,  and  if  they  see  the  slightest  sign  of  police  tolerance  for  their 
misconduct,  frequently  fall  upon  the  Army  officers  or  their  property  with  violence. 
Yet  a  couple  of  officers  face  such  an  audience  with  the  absolute  certainty  of  recruiting 
out  of  it  an  Army  Corps.  Many  thousands  of  those  who  are  now  most  prominent  in 
the  ranks  of  the  Army  never  knew  what  it  was  to  pray  before  they  attended  its  services; 
and  large  numbers  of  them  had  settled  into  a  profound  conviction  that  everything  con- 
nected with  religion  was  utterly  false.  It  is  out  of  such  material  that  God  has  con- 
structed what  is  admitted  to  be  one  of  the  most  fervid  bodies  of  believers  ever  seen  on 
the  face  of  the  earth. 

Many  persons  in  looking  at  the  progress  of  the  Army  have  shown  a  strange  want  of 
discernment  in  talking  and  writing  as  though  all  this  had  been  done  in  a  most  haphaz- 
ard fashion,  or  as  though  an  individual  could  by  the  mere  effort  of  his  will  produce 
such  changes  in  the  lives  of  others  as  he  chose.  The  slightest  reflection  will  be  suffic- 
ient we  are  sure  to  convince  any  impartial  individual  that  the  gigantic  results  attained 
by  the  Salvation  Army  could  only  be  reached  by  steady  unaltering  processes  adapted 
to  this  end.     And  what  are  the  processes  by  which  this  great  Army  has  been  made? 

1.  The  foundation  of  all  the  Army's  success,  looked  at  apart  from  its  divine  source 
of  strength,  is  its  continued  direct  attack  upon  those  whom  it  seeks  to  bring  under  the 
influence  of  the  Gospel  The  Salvation  Army  Officer,  instead  of  standing  upon  some 
dignified  pedestal,  to  describe  the  fallen  condition  of  his  fellow  men,  in  the  hope  that 
though  far  from  him,  they  may  thus,  by  some  mysterious  process,  come  to  a  better  life, 
goes  down  into  the  street,  and  from  door  to  door,  and  from  room  to  room,  lays  his 
hands  on  those  who  are  spiritually  sick,  and  leads  them  to  the  Almighty  Healer.  In 
its  forms  of  speech  and  writing  the  Army  constantly  exhibits  the  same  characteristic. 
Instead  of  propounding  religious  theories  or  pretending  to  teach  a  system  of  theology, 
it  speaks  much  after  the  fashion  of  the  old  Prophet  or  Apostle,  to  each  individual, 
about  his  or  her  sin  and  duty,  thus  bringing  to  bear  upon  each  heart  and  conscience 
the  light  and  power  from  heaven,  by  which  alone  the  world  can  be  transformed. 

2.  And  step  by  step,  along  with  this  human  contact  goes  unmistakably  something 
that  is  not  human. 

The  puzzlement  and  self-contradiction  of  most  critics  of  the  Army  springs  undoub- 
tedly from  the  fact  that  they  are  bound  to  account  for  its  success  without  admitting 
that  any  superhuman  power  attends  its  ministry,  yet  day  after  day,  and  night  after 
night,  the  wonderful  facts  go  on  multiplying.  The  man  who  last  night  was  drunk  in  a 
London  slum,  is  to-night  standing  up  for  Christ  on  an  Army  platform.  The  clever 
sceptic,  who  a  few  weeks  ago  was  interrupting  the  speakers  in  Berlin,  and  pouring 
contempt  upon  their  claims  to  a  personal  knowledge  of  the  unseen  Saviour,  is  to-day 
as  thorough  a  believer  as  any  of  them.  The  poor  girl,  lost  to  shame  and  hope,  who  a 
month  ago  was  an  outcast  of  Paris,  is  to-day  a  modest  devoted  follower  of  Christ, 
working  in  a  humble  situation.  To  those  who  admit  we  are  right  in  saying  "this  is  the 
Lord's  doing,"  all  is  simple  enough,  and  our  certainty  that  the  dregs  of  Society  can 
become  its  pmaments  requires  no  further  explanation. 


vi  APPENDIX 

3.  All  these  modern  miracles  would,  however,  have  been  comparatively  useless 
but  for  the  Army's  system  of  utilizing  the  gifts  and  energy  of  our  converts  to  the  utter- 
most. Suppose  that  without  any  claim  to  Divine  power  the  Army  had  succeeded  in 
raising  up  tens  of  thousands  of  persons,  formerly  unknown  and  unseen  in  the  com- 
munity, and  made  them  into  Singers,  Speakers,  Musicians  and  Orderlies,  that  would 
surely  in  itself  have  been  a  remarkable  fact.  But  not  only  have  these  engaged  in  var- 
ious labors  for  the  benefit  of  the  community.  They  have  been  filled  with  a  burning 
ambition  to  attain  the  highest  possible  degree  of  usefulness.  No  one  can  wonder  that 
we  expect  to  see  the  same  process  carried  on  successfully  amongst  our  new  friends  of 
the  Casual  Ward  and  the  Slum.  And  if  the  Army  has  been  able  to  accomplish  all  this 
utilization  of  human  talents  for  the  highest  purposes,  in  spite  of  an  almost  universally 
prevailing  contrary  practice  amongst  the  Churches,  what  may  not  its  Social  Wing  be 
expected  to  do,  with  the  example  of  the  Army  before  it? 

4.  The  maintenance  of  all  this  system  has,  of  course,  been  largely  due  to  the 
unqualified  acceptance  of  military  government  and  discipline.  But  for  this,  we  can- 
not be  blind  to  the  fact  that  even  in  our  own  ranks  difficulties  would  every  day  arise  as 
to  the  exaltation  to  front  seats  of  those  who  were  formerly  persecutors  and  injurious. 
The  old  feeling  which  would  have  kept  Paul  suspected,  in  the  background,  after  his 
conversion  is,  unfortunately,  a  part  ot  the  conservative  groundwork  of  human  nature 
that  continues  to  exist  everywhere,  and  which  has  to  be  overcome  by  rigid  discipline 
in  order  to  secure  that  everywhere  and  always,  the  new  convert  should  be  made  the 
most  of  for  Christ.  But  Army  system  is  a  great  indisputable  fact,  so  much  so  that 
our  enemies  sometimes  reproach  us  with  it  That  it  should  be  possible  to  create  an 
Army  Organization,  and  to  secure  faithful  execution  of  duty  daily,  is  indeed  a  wonder, 
but  a  wonder  accomplished,  just  as  completely  amongst  the  Republicans  of  America 
and  France,  as  amongst  the  militarily  trained  Germans,  or  the  subjects  of  the  British 
monarchy  It  is  notorious  that  we  can  send  an  officer  from  London,  possessed  of  no 
extraordinary  ability,  to  take  command  of  any  corps  in  the  world,  with  a  certainty  that 
he  will  find  soldiers  eager  to  do  his  bidding,  and  without  a  thought  of  disputing  his 
commands  so  long  as  he  continues  faithful  to  the  orders  and  regulations  under  which 
his  men  are  enlisted. 

5.  But  those  show  a  curious  ignorance  who  set  down  our  successes  to  this  disci- 
pline, as  though  it  were  something  of  the  prison  order,  although  enforced  without  any 
of  the  power  lying  either  behind  the  prison  warder  or  the  Catholic  priest.  On  the 
contrary,  wherever  the  discipline  of  the  Army  has  been  endangered,  and  its  regular 
success  for  a  time  interrupted,  ithas'been  through  an  attempt  to  enforce  it  without 
enough  of  that  joyous,  cheerful  spirit  of  love  which  is  its  main  spring.  Nobody  can 
become  acquainted  with  our  soldiers  in  any  land,  without  being  almost  immediately 
struck  with  their  extraordinary  gladness,  and  this  joy  is  in  itself  one  of  the  most  infec- 
tious and  influential  elements  of  the  Army's  success.  But  if  this  be  so,  amid  the  com- 
paratively well-to-do,  judge  of  what  its  results  are  likely  to  be  amongst  the  poorest  and 
most  wretched !  To  those  who  have  never  known  bright  days,  the  mere  sight  of  a 
happy  face  is,  as  it  were,  a  revelation  and  inspiration  in  one. 

6.  But  the  Army's  success  does  not  come  with  magical  rapidity;  it  depends,  like 
that  of  all  real  work,  upon  infinite  perseverance. 

To  say  nothing  of  the  perseverance  of  the  officer  who  has  made  the  saving  of  men 
his  life  work,  and  who,  occupied  and  absorbed  with  this  great  pursuit,  may  naturally 
enough  be  expected  to  remain  faithful,  there  are  multitudes  of  our  Soldiers  who,  after 
a  hard  day's  toil  for  their  daily  bread,  have  but  a  few  hours  of  leisure,  but  devote  it 
ungrudgingly  to  the  service  of  the  War.  Again  and  again,  when  the  remains  of  some 
Soldier  are  laid  to  rest,  amid  the  almost  universal  respect  of  a  town,  which  once  knew 
him  only  as  an  evil-doer,  we  hear  it  said  that  this  man,  since  the  date  of  his  conversion, 
from  five  to  ten  years  ago,  has  seldom  been  absent  from  his  post,  and  never  without 


APPENDIX  vii 

good  reason  for  it.  His  duty  may  have  been  comparatively  insignificant,  ''only  a 
door-keeper,  only  a  War  Cry  seller,"  yet  Sunday  after  Sunday,  evening  after  evening, 
he  would  be  present,  no  matter  who  the  commanding  officer  might  be,  to  do  his  part, 
bearing  with  the  unruly,  breathing  hope  into  the  distressed,  and  showing  anwavering 
faithfulness  to  all. 

The  continuance  of  these  processes  of  mercy  depends  largely  upon  leadership, 
and  the  creation  and  maintenance  of  this  leadership  has  been  one  of  the  marvels  of 
the  Movement  We  have  men  to-day  looked  up  to  and  reverenced  over  wide  areas  of 
country,  arousing  multitudes  to  the  most  devoted  service,  who  a  few  years  ago  were 
champions  of  iniquity,  notorious  in  nearly  every  form  of  vice,  and  some  of  them  ring- 
leadeis  in  violent  opposition  to  the  Army.  We  have  a  right  to  believe  that  on  the  same 
lines  God  is  going  to  raise  up  just  such  leaders  without  measure  and  without  end 

Beneath,  behind  and  pervading  all  the  successes  of  the  Salvation  Army  is  a 
force  against  which  the  world  may  sneer,  but  without  which  the  world  s  miseries  can- 
not be  removed,  the  force  of  that  Divine  love  which  breathed  on  Calvary,  and  which 
God  is  able  to  communicate  by  His  spirit  to  human  hearts  to-day. 

It  is  pitiful  to  see  intelligent  men  attempting  to  account,  without  the  admission 
of  this  great  fact,  for  the  self-sacrifice  and  success  of  Salvation  Officers  and  Soldiers. 
If  those  who  wish  to  understand  the  Army  would  only  take  the  trouble  to  spend  as 
much  as  twenty-four  hours  with  its  people,  how  different  in  almost  every  instance 
would  be  the  conclusions  arrived  at.  Half-an-hour  spent  in  the  rooms  inhabited  by 
many  of  our  officers  would  be  sufficient  to  convince,  even  a  well-to-do  working  man, 
that  life  could  not  be  lived  happily  in  such  circumstances  without  some  superhuman 
power,  which  alike  sustains  and  gladdens  the  soul,  altogether  independently  of 
earthly  surroundings. 

The  Scheme  that  has  been  propounded  in  this  volume  would,  we  are  quite  satis- 
fied, have  no  chance  of  success  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  we  have  such  a  vast  sup- 
ply of  men  and  woman  who,  through  the  love  of  Christ  ruling  in  their  hearts,  aie  pre- 
pared to  look  upon  a  life  of  self-sacrificing  efifort  for  the  benefit  of  the  vilest  and 
roughest  as  the  highest  of  privileges.  With  such  a  force  at  command,  we  dare  to  say 
that  the  accomplishment  of  this  stupendous  undertaking  is  a  foregone  conclusion  if 
the  material  assistance  which  the  Army  does  not  possess  is  forthcoming. 

THE   SALVATION    ARMY   SOCIAL  REFORM  WING, 
Temporary  Headquarters,  36  Upper  Thames  Street,  London,  E,C. 

Objects.— The  bringing  together  of  employers  and  workers  for  their  mutual  ad- 
vantage. Making  known  the  wants  of  each  to  each  by  providing  a  ready  method  of 
communication. 

Plan  of  Operation.— The  opening  of  a  Central  Registry  Office,  which  for  the 
present  will  be  located  at  the  above  address,  and  where  registers  will  be  'ke^i  free  of 
charge  wherein  the  wants  of  both  employers  and  workers  will  be  recorded,  the 
registers  being  open  for  consultation  by  all  interested. 

Public  Waiting  Rooms  (for  male  and  female),  to  which  the  unemployed  may  come 
for  the  porpose  of  scanning  the  newspapers,  the  insertion  of  advertisements  for  em- 
ployment in  all  newspapers  at  lowest  rates.  Writing  tables,  &c.,  provided  for  their 
use  to  enable  them  to  write  applications  for  situations  or  work.  The  receiving  of 
letters  (replies  to  applications  for  employment)  for  unemployed  workers. 

The  Waiting  Rooms  will  also  act  as  Houses-of-Call,  where  employers  can  meet 
and  enter  into  engagements  with  Workers  of  all  kinds,  by  appointment  or  otherwise, 
thus  doing  away  with  the  snare  that  awaits  many  of  the  unemployed,  who  have  no 
place  to  wait  other  than  the  Public  House,  which  at  present  is  almost  the  only 
"house-of-call"  for  Out-of-Work  men. 


viii  APPENDIX 

By  making  known  to  the  public  generally  the  wants  of  the  unemployed  by  means 
of  advertisements,  by  circulars  and  direct  application  to  employers,  the  issue  of 
labor  statistics  with  information  as  to  the  number  of  unemployed  who  are  anxious  for 
work,  the  various  trades  and  occupations  they  represent,  &c.,  &c. 

The  opening  of  branches  of  the  Labor  Bureau  as  fast  as  funds  and  opportunities 
permit,  in  all  the  large  towns  and  centres  of  industry  throughout  Great  Britain. 

In  connection  with  the  Labor  Bureau  we  propose  to  deal  with  both  skilled  and  un- 
skilled workers,  amongst  the  latter  forming  such  agencies  as  "Sandwich"  Board  Men's 
Society,  Shoe  Black,  Carpet  Beating,  White-washing,  Window  Cleaning,  Wood  Chop- 
ping and  other  Brigades,  all  of  which  will,  with  many  others,  be  put  into  operation  as 
far  as  the  assistance  of  the  public  (in  the  shape  of  applying  for  workers  of  all  kinds) 
will  afford  us  the  opportunity 

A  Domestic  Servants'  Agency  will  also  be  a  branch  of  the  Bureau,  and  a  Home 
For  Domestic  Servants  out  of  situation  is  also  in  contemplation.  In  this  and  other 
matters  funds  alone  are  required  to  commence  operations. 

All  communications,  donations,  etc.,  should  be  addressed  as  above,  marked 
"Labor  Bureau,"  etc. 

CENTRAL  LABOR  BUREAU. 

LOCAL  AGENTS  AND  CORRESPONDENTS'  DEPARTMENT. 

Dear  Comrade — The  enclosed  letter,  which  has  been  sent  to  our  Officers  through- 
out the  Field,  will  explain  the  object  we  have  in  view.  Your  name  has  been  suggested 
to  us  as  one  whose  heart  is  thoroughly  in  sympathy  with  any  effort  on  behalf  of  poor 
suffering  humanity  We  are  anxious  to  have  in  connection  with  each  of  our  Corps, 
and  in  every  locality  throughout  the  Kingdom,  some  sympathetic,  level-headed  com- 
rade, acting  as  our  Agent  or  local  Correspondent,  to  whom  we  could  refer  at  all  times 
for  reliable  information,  and  who  would  take  it  as  work  of  love  to  regularly  commu- 
nicate useful  information  respecting  the  social  condition  of  things  generally  in  their 
neighborhood. 

Kindly  reply,  giving  us  your  views  and  feelings  on  the  subject  as  soon  as  possible, 
as  we  are  anxious  to  organize  at  once.  The  first  business  on  hand  is  for  us  to  get 
information  of  those  out  of  work  and  employers  requiring  workers,  so  that  we  can  place 
them  upon  our  registers,  and  make  known  the  wants  both  of  employers  and  employes. 

We  shall  be  glad  of  a  communication  from  you,  giving  us  some  facts  as  to  the 
condition  of  things  in  your  locality,  or  any  ideas  or  suggestions  you  would  like  to  give, 
calculated  to  help  us  in  connection  with  this  good  work. 

I  may  say  that  the  Social  Wing  not  only  comprehends  the  labor  question,  but  also 
prison  rescue  and  other  branches  of  Salvation  work,  dealing  with  broken-down 
humanity  generally,  so  that  you  can  see  what  a  great  blessing  you  may  be  to  the  work 
©f  God  by  co-operating  with  us. 

Believe  me  to  be, 
Yours  affectionately  for  the  Suffering  and  Lost,  etc 


LOCAL  AGENTS  AND  CORRESPONDENTS'  DEPARTMENT. 

PROPOSITION  FOR  LOCAL  AttBNT,   CORRBSPONDBNT,   BTC. 

Name ............ 

Address    

Occupation 

If  a  Soldier,   what  Corps? 

If  not  a  Soldier,  what  Denomination? 

If  spoken  to  on  the  subject,  what  reply  have  they  made? 


Signed 

Corps , 

Date „„ 189 


Kindly  return  this  as  soon  as  possible,  and  we  will  then  place  ourselves  in  com  • 
munication  with  the  Comrade  you  propose  for  this  position. 


X  APPENDIX 

TO  EMPLOYERS  OF  LABOR. 

M .'. 

We  beg  to  bring  to  your  notice  the  fact  that  the  Salvation  Army  has  opened  at  the 
above  address  (in  connection  with  the  Social  Reform  Wing),  a  Labor  Bureau  for  the 
Registration  of  the  wants  of  all  classes  of  Labor,  for  both  employer  and  employ^  in 
London  and  throughout  the  Kingdom,  our  object  being  to  place  in  communication  with 
each  other,  for  mutual  advantage,  those  who  want  workers  and  those  who  want  work. 

Arrangements  have  been  made  at  the  above  address  for  waiting  rooms  where  em- 
ployers can  see  unemployed  men  and  women,  and  where  the  latter  may  have  accomoda- 
tion to  write  letters,  see  the  advertisements  in  the  papers,  &c.,  &c. 

If  you  are  in  want  of  workers  of  any  kind,  will  you  kindly  fill  up  the  enclosed  form 
and  return  it  to  us?  We  will  then  have  the  particulars  entered  up,  and  endeavor  to 
have  your  wants  supplied.  All  applications,  I  need  hardly  assure  you,  will  have  our 
best  attention,  whether  they  refer  to  work  of  a  permanent  or  temporary  character. 

We  shall  also  be  glad,  through  the  information  office  of  Labor  Department,  to  give 
you  any  further  information  as  to  plans,  &c.,  or  an  Officer  will  wait  upon  you  to 
receive  instructions  for  the  supply  of  workers,  if  requested. 

As  no  charge  will  be  made  for  registration  of  either  the  wants  of  employers  or  the 
wants  of  the  unemployed,  it  will  be  obvious  that  a  considerable  outlay  will  be  neces- 
sary to  sustain  these  operations  in  active  usefulness,  and  that  therefore  financial  help 
will  be  greatly  needed. 

We  shall  gratefully  receive  donations,  from  the  smallest  coin  up,  to  help  to  cover 
the  cost  of  working  this  department.  We  think  it  right  to  say  that  only  in  special  cases 
shall  we  feel  at  liberty  to  give  personal  recommendations.  This,  however,  will  no 
doubt  be  understood,  seeing  that  we  shall  have  to  deal  with  very  large  numbers  who 
are  total  strangers  to  us. 

Please  address  all  communications  or  donations  as  above,  marked  "Central  Labor 
Bureau,"  etc. 

WE  PROPOSE  TO  ENTER  UPON  A  CRUSADE  AGAINST  "  SWEATING." 
WILL  YOU  HELP  US? 

Dear  Sir*.— In  connection  with  the  Social  Reform  Wing  a  Central  Labor  Bureau 
has  been  opened,  one  department  of  which  will  deal  especially  with  that  class  of 
labor  termed  "unskilled,"  from  amongst  whom  are  drawn  Boardmen,  Messengers, 
Bill  Distributors,  Circular  Addressers,  Window  Cleaners,  White-washers, 
Carpet  Beaters,  &c.,  &c. 

It  is  very  important  that  work  given  to  these  workers  and  others  not  enumerated, 
should  be  taxed  as  little  as  possible  by  the  Contractor,  or  those  who  act  between  the 
employer  and  the  worker. 

In  all  our  operations  in  this  capacity  we  do  not  propose  to  make  profit  out  of 
those  we  benefit;  paying  over  the  whole  amount  received,  less,  say,  one-half  penny  in 
the  shilling,  or  some  such  small  sum  which  will  go  towards  the  expense  of  providing 
boards,  for  "sandwich"  boardmen,  the  hire  of  barrows,  purchase  of  necessary  tools, 
&c.,  &c. 

We  are  very  anxious  to  help  that  most  needy  class,  the  "boardmen,"  many  of 
whom  are  "sweated"  out  of  their  miserable  earnings;  receiving  often  as  low  as 
one  shilling  for  a  day's  toil. 


APPENDIX  xi 

We  appeal  to  all  who  sympathize  with  suffering  humanity,  especially 
Religious  and  Philanthropic  individuals  and  Societies,  to  assist  us  in  our  efforts,  by 
placing  orders  for  the  supply  of  Boardmen,  Messengers,  Bill-distributors,  Window- 
cleaners  and  other  kinds  of  labor  in  our  hands.  Our  charge  for  "boardmen"  will  be 
2s,  2d.,  including  boards,  the  placing  and  proper  supervision  of  the  men,  &c  Two 
shillings,  at  least,  will  go  direct  to  the  men;  most  of  the  hirers  of  boardmen  pay  this, 
and  some  even  more,  but  often  not  more  than  one-half  reaches  the  men. 

We  shall  be  glad  to  forward  you  further  information  of  our  plans,  or  will  send  a 
representative  to  further  explain,  or  to  take  orders,  on  receiving  notice  from  you  to 
that  effect. 

Believe  me  to  be, 

Yours  faithfully,  etc. 


CENTRAL  LABOR  BUREAU. 


to  the  unemployed. — male  and  female. 


NOTICE. 

A  free  registry,  for  all  kinds  of  unemployed  labor,  has  been  opened  at  the  above 
address. 

If  you  want  work,  call  and  make  yourself  and  your  wants  known. 

Enter  your  name  and  address  and  wants  on  the  Registers,  or  fill  up  form  below, 
and  hand  it  in  at  above  address. 

Look  over  the  advertising  pages  of  the  papers  provided.  Tables  with  pens  and 
ink  are  provided  for  you  to  write  for  situations. 

If  you  live  at  a  distance,  fill  up  this  form  giving  all  particulars,  or  references,  and 
forward  to  Commissioner  Smith,  care  of  the  Labor  Bureau. 


Name 


Address 


Kind  of   work    wanted. 


Wages  you  ask. 


xii 


APPENDIX 


Name. 

Age. 

During  past  lo  years  have  you 
had  regular  employment? 

IIow  long  for? 

What  kind  of  work? 

What  work  can  you  do? 

What  have  you  worked  at  at 
odd  times? 

How  much  did  you  earn  when 
regularly  employed? 


How  much  did  you  earn  when 
irregularly  employed? 


Are  you  married? 


Is  wife  living? 


How  many  children,  and  ages? 


If  you  were  put  on  a  Farm  to 
work  at  anything  you  could 
do,  and  were  supplied  with 
food,  lodging  and  clothes, 
with  a  view  of  getting  you 
on  your  feet,  would  you  do 
all  you  could? 


HOW    BEGGARY    WAS  ABOLISHED   IN    BAVARIA   BY 
COUNT  RUMFORD. 

Count  Rumford  was  an  American  officer  who  served  with  considerable  distinction 
in  the  Revolutionary  War  in  that  country,  and  afterwards  settled  in  England.  From 
thence  he  went  to  Bavaria,  where  he  was  promoted  to  the  chief  command  of  its  army, 
and  also  was  energetically  employed  in  the  Civil  Government.  Bavaria  at  this  time 
literally  swarmed  with  beggars,  who  were  not  only  an  eyesore  and  discredit  to  the 
nation  but  a  positive  injury  to  the  State.  The  Count  resolved  upon  the  extinction  of 
this  miserable  profession,  and  the  following  extracts  from  his  writings  describe  the 
method  by  which  he  accomplished  it: — 

"  Bavaria,  by  the  neglect  of  the  Government,  and  the  abuse  of  the  kindness  and 
charity  of  its  amiable  people,  had  become  infested  with  beggars,  with  whom  mingled 
vagabonds  and  thieves.  They  were  to  the  body  politic  what  parasites  and  vermin  are 
to  people  and  dwellings — breeding  by  the  same  lazy  neglect."  — (Page  14.) 

"  In  Bavaria  there  were  laws  which  made  provision  for  the  poor,  but  they  suffered 
them  to  fall  into  neglect.     Beggary  had  become  general.  •  — (Page  15.) 

"  In  short,"  says  Count  Rumford,  "  these  detestable  vermin  swarmed  everywhere; 
and  not  only  their  impudence  and  clamorous  importunity  were  boundless,  but  they 
had  recourse  to  the  most  diabolical  arts  and  the  most  horrid  crimes  in  the  prosecution 
of  their  infamous  trade.  They  exposed  and  tortured  their  own  children,  and  those 
they  stole  for  the  purpose,  to  extort  contributions  from  the  charitable," 

—(Page  15.) 

"  In  the  large  towns  beggary  was  an  organized  imposture,  with  a  sort  of  govern- 
ment and  police  of  its  own.  Each  beggar  had  his  beat,  with  orderly  successions  and 
promotions,  as  with  other  governments.  There  were  battles  to  decide  conflicting 
claims^  and  a  good  beat  was  not  unfrequently  a  marriage  portion  or  a  thumping 
legacy."  —(Page  16.) 

"  He  saw  that  it  was  not  enough  to  forbid  beggary  by  law  or  to  punish  it  by  imprison- 
ment. The  beggars  cared  for  neither.  The  energetic  Yankee  Statesman  attacked  the 
question  as  he  did  problems  in  physical  science.  He  studied  beggary  and  beggars. 
How  would  he  deal  with  one  individual  beggar?  Send  him  for  a  month  to  prison  to 
beg  again  as  soon  as  he  came  out?  That  is  no  remedy.  The  evident  course  was  to 
forbid  him  to  beg,  but  at  the  same  time  to  give  him  the  opportunity  to  labor;  to  teach 
him  to  work,  to  encourage  him  to  honest  industry.  And  the  wise  ruler  sets  himself  to 
provide  food,  comfort,  and  work  for  every  beggar  and  vagabond  in  Bavaria,  and  did  it." 

—(Page  17.) 

"Count  Rumford,  wise  and  just,  sets  himself  to  reform  the  whole  class  of  beggars 
and  vagabonds,  and  convert  them  into  useful  citizens,  even  to  those  who  had  sunk  into 
vice  and  crime, 

"  'What,'  he  asked  himself,  'is,  after  the  necessaries  of  life,  the  first  condition  of 
comfort? '  Cleanliness,  which  animals  and  insects  prize,  which  in  man  affects  his 
moral  character,  and  which  is  akin  to  godliness.  The  idea  that  the  soul  is  defiled  and 
depraved  by  what  is  unclean  has  long  prevailed  in  all  ages,  Virtue  never  dwelt  long 
with  filth.     Our  bodres  are  at  war  with  everything  that  defiles  them. 

"His  first  step,  after  a  thorough  study  and  consideration  of  the  subject,  was  to  pro- 
vide in  Munich,  and  at  all  necessary  points,  large,  airy,  and  even  elegant  Houses  of 
Industry,  and  store  them  with  tools  and  materials  of  such  manufactures  as  were 
most  needed,  and  would  be  most  useful.  Each  house  was  provided  with  a  large  dining- 
room  and  a  cooking  apparatus  sufficient  to  furnish  an  economical  dinner  to  every 

ziii 


xiv  APPENDIX 

worker.  Teachers  were  engaged  for  each  kind  of  labor.  Warmth,  light,  comfort, 
neatness  and  order,  in  and  around  these  houses,  made  them  attractive.  The  dinner 
every  day  was  gratis,  provided  at  first  by  the  Government,  later  by  the  contributions 
of  the  citizens.  Bakers  brought  stale  bread;  butchers  refuse  meat;  citizens,  their  bro- 
ken victuals — all  rejoicing  in  being  freed  from  the  nuisance  of  beggary.  The  teachers 
of  handicrafts  were  provided  by  the  Government.  And  while  all  this  was  free, 
everyone  was  paid  the  full  value  for  his  labor.  You  shall  not  beg;  but  here  is  comfort, 
food,  work,  pay.  There  was  no  ill-usage,  no  harsh  language;  in  five  years  not  a  blow 
was  given  even  to  a  child  by  his  instructor. 

''When  the  preparations  for  this  great  experiment  had  been  silently  completed, 
the  army — the  right  arm  of  the  governing  power,  which  had  been  prepared  for  the 
work  by  its  own  thorough  reformation — was  called  into  action  in  aid  of  the  police 
and  the  civil  magistrates.  Regiments  of  cavalry  were  so  disposed  as  to  furnish  every 
town  with  a  detachment,  with  patrols  on  every  highway,  and  squads  in  the  villages, 
keeping  the  strictest  order  and  discipline,  paying  the  utmost  deference  to  the  civil 
authorities,  and  avoiding  all  offence  to  the  people;  instructed  when  the  order  was  given 
to  arrest  every  beggar,  vagrant,  and  deserter,  and  bring  them  before  the  magistrates. 
This  military  police  cost  nothing  extra  to  the  country  beyond  a  few  cantonments,  and 
this  expense  to  the  whole  country  was  less  than  £3,000  a  year. 

"The  ist  of  January,  1790 — New  Year's  Day,  from  time  immemorial  the  beggars' 
holiday,  when  they  swarm  in  the  streets,  expecting  everyone  to  give — the  commissioned 
and  non-commissioned  officers  of  three  regiments  of  infantry  were  distributed  early  in 
the  mornmg  at  different  points  of  Munich  to  wait  for  orders.  Lieutenant-General 
Count  Rumford  assembled  at  his  residence  the  chief  officers  of  the  army  and  principal 
magristrates  of  the  city,  and  communicated  to  them  his  Plans  for  the  campaign.  Then, 
dresned  in  the  uniform  of  his  rank,  with  his  orders  and  decorations  glittering  on  his 
breast,  setting  an  example  to  the  humblest  soldier,  he  led  them  into  the  street,  and  had 
scarcely  reached  it  before  a  beggar  approached,  wished  him  a  'Happy  New  Year,'  and 
waited  for  the  expected  alms.  'I  went  up  to  him,'  says  Count  Rumford,  'and  laying 
my  hand  gently  on  his  shoulder,  told  him  that  henceforth  begging  would  not  be  permit- 
ted in  Munich;  that  if  he  was  in  need,  assistance  would  be  given  him;  and  if  detected 
begging  again,  he  would  be  severely  punished.'  He  was  then  sent  to  the  Town  Hall, 
his  name  and  residence  inscribed  upon  the  register,  and  he  was  directed  to  repair  to 
the  Military  House  of  Industry  next  morning,  where  he  would  find  dinner,  work  and 
wages.  Every  officer,  every  magistrate,  every  soldier,  followed  the  example  set  them; 
every  beggar  was  arrested,  and  in  one  day  a  stop  was  put  to  beggars  in  Bavaria,  It 
was  banished  out  of  the  kingdom. 

"And  now  let  us  see  what  was  the  progress  and  success  of  this  experiment.  It 
seemed  a  risk  to  trust  the  raw  materials  of  industry — wool,  flax,  hemp,  etc, — to  the 
hands  of  common  beggars;  to  render  a  debauched  and  depraved  class  orderly  and 
useful,  was  an  arduous  enterprize.  Of  course  the  greater  number  made  bad  work  at 
the  beginning.  For  months  they  cost  more  than  they  came  to.  They  spoiled  more 
horns  than  they  made  spoons.  Employed  first  in  the  coarser  and  ruder  manufactures, 
they  were  advanced  as  they  improved,  and  were  for  some  time  paid  more  than  they 
earned — paid  to  encourage  good  will,  effort,  and  perseverance.  These  were  worth  any 
sum.  The  poor  people  saw  that  they  were  treated  with  more  than  justice — with  kind- 
ness. It  was  very  evident  that  it  was  all  for  their  good.  At  first  there  was  confusion, 
but  no  insubordination.  They  were  awkward,  but  not  insensible  to  kindness  The 
aged,  the  weak,  and  the  children  were  put  to  the  easiest  tasks.  The  younger  children 
were  paid  simply  to  look  on  until  they  begged  to  join  in  the  work,  which  seemed  to 
them  like  play.  Everything  around  them  was  made  clean,  quiet,  orderly  and  pleasant. 
Living  at  their  own  homes,  they  came  at  a  fixed  hour  in  the  morning.  They  had  at 
noon  a  hot,  nourishing  dinner  of  soup  and  bread.     Provisions  were  either  contributed 


APPENDIX  XV 

or  bought  wholesale,  aud  the  economies  of  cookery  were  carried  to  the  last  point  of 
perfection.  Count  Rumford  has  so  planned  the  cooking  apparatus  that  three  women 
cooked  a  dinner  for  one  thousand  persons  at  a  cost,  though  wood  was  used,  of  4J^d. 
for  fuel;  and  the  entire  cost  of  the  dinner  for  1,200  was  only  £1  7s.  6J^d  ,  or  about  one- 
third  of  a  penny  for  each  person!  Perfect  order  was  kept — at  work,  at  meals  and 
everywhere.  As  soon  as  a  company  took  its  place  at  table,  the  food  having  been 
previously  served,  all  repeated  a  short  prayer.  'Perhaps,'  says  Count  Rumford,  'I 
ought  to  ask  pardon  for  mentioning  so  old-fashioned  a  custom,  but  I  own  I  am  old- 
fashioned  enough  myself  to  like  such  things.' 

"These  poor  people  were  generously  paid  for  their  labor,  but  something  more 
than  cash  payment  was  necessary.  There  was  needed  the  feeling  of  emulation,  the 
desire  to  excel,  the  sense  of  honor,  the  love  of  glory.  Not  only  pay,  but  rewards, 
prizes,  distinctions,  were  given  to  the  more  deserving.  Peculiar  care  was  taken  with 
the  children.  They  were  first  paid  simply  for  being  present,  idle  lookers-on,  until  they 
begged  with  tears  to  be  allowed  to  work.  'How  sweet  those  tears  were  tome,'  says 
Count  Rumford,  'can  easily  be  imagined,'  Certain  hours  were  spent  by  them  in 
a  school,  for  which  teachers  were  provided. 

'  'The  effect  of  these  measures  was  very  remarkable.  Awkward  as  the  people  were, 
they  were  not  stupid,  and  learned  to  work  with  unexpected  rapidity.  More  wonder- 
ful was  the  change  in  their  manners,  appearances  and  the  very  expression  of  their 
countenances.  Cheerfulness  and  gratitude  replaced  the  gloom  of  misery  and  the 
suUenness  of  despair.  Their  hearts  were  softened;  they  were  most  grateful  to  their 
benefactors  for  themselves,  still  more  for  their  children.  These  worked  with  their 
parents,  forming  little  industrial  groups,  whose  affection  excited  the  interest  of  every 
visitor.  Parents  were  happy  in  the  industry  and  growing  intelligence  of  their  child- 
ren, and  the  children  were  proud  of  their  own  achievements. 

"The  great  experiment  was  a  complete  and  triumphant  success.  When  Count 
Rumford  wrote  his  account  of  it,  it  had  been  five  years  in  operation;  it  was,  financially, 
a  paying  speculation,  and  had  not  only  banished  beggary,  but  had  wrought  an  entire 
change  in  the  manners,  habits  and  very  appearance  of  the  most  abandoned  and  de- 
graded people  in  the  kingdom." 

— ("Count  Rumford,"  pages  18-24.) 

"Are  the  poor  ungrateful?  Count  Rumford  did  not  find  them  so.  When,  from 
the  exhaustion  of  his  great  labors,  he  fell  dangerously  ill,  these  poor  people  whom  he 
had  rescued  from  lives  of  shame  and  misery,  spontaneously  assembled,  formed  a  pro- 
cession, and  went  in  a  body  to  the  Cathedral  to  offer  their  united  prayers  for  his 
recovery.  When  he  was  absent  in  Italy,  and  supposed  to  be  dangerously  ill  in  Naples, 
they  set  apart  a  certain  time  every  day  after  work  hours,  to  pray  for  their  benefactor. 
After  an  absence  of  fifteen  months,  Count  Rumford  returned  with  renewed  health  to 
Munich,  a  city  where  there  was  work  for  everyone,  and  not  one  person  whose  wants 
were  not  provided  for.  When  he  visited  the  military  workhouse,  the  reception  given 
him  by  these  poor  people  drew  tears  from  the  eyes  of  all  present.  A  few  days  after 
he  entertained  eighteen  hundred  of  them  in  the  English  garden — a  festival  at  which 
300,000  of  the  citizens  of  Munich  assisted." 

—("Count  Rumford,"  pages  24-25.) 

THE    CO-OPERATIVE  EXPERIMENT   AT  RALAHINE. 

"The  outrages  of  the  'Whitefeet,'  'Lady  Clare  Boys,'  and  'Terry  Alts'  (laborers) 
far  exceeded  those  of  recent  occurrence;  yet  no  remedy  but  force  was  attempted,  ex- 
cept by  one  Irish  landlord.  Mr.  John  Scott  Vandeleur,  of  Ralahine,  county  Clare,  late 
high  sheriff  of  his  county.  Early  in  1831  his  family  had  been  obliged  to  take  flight,  in 
charge  of  an  armed  police  force,  and  his  steward  had  been  murdered  by  one  of  the 


xvi  APPENDIX 

laborers,  having  been  chosen  by  lot  at  a  meeting  held  to  decide  who  should  perpe- 
trate the  deed.  Mr.  Vandeleur  came  to  England  to  seek  someone  who  would  aid  him 
in  organizing  the  laborers  into  an  agricultural  and  manufacturing  association,  to  be 
conducted  on  co-operative  principles,  and  he  was  recommended  to  Mr.  Craig,  who, 
at  great  sacrifice  of  his  position  and  prospects,  consented  to  give  his  services. 

"No  one  but  a  man  of  rare  zeal  and  courage  would  have  attempted  so  apparently 
hopeless  a  task  as  that  which  Mr.  Craig  undertook.  Both  the  men  whom  he  had  to 
manage — the  Terry  Alts  who  had  murdered  their  master's  steward — and  their  sur- 
roundings were  as  little  calculated  to  give  confidence  in  the  success  of  the  scheme  as 
they  well  could  be.  The  men  spoke  generally  the  Irish  language,  which  Mr  Craig  did 
not  understand,  and  they  looked  upon  him  with  suspicion  as  one  sent  to  worm  out  of 
them  the  secret  cf  the  murder  recently  committed.  He  was  consequently  treated 
with  coldness  and  worse  than  that.  On  one  occasion  the  outline  of  his  grave  was  cut 
out  of  the  pasture  near  his  dwelling,  and  he  carried  his  life  in  his  hand.  After  a  time; 
however,  he  won  the  confidence  of  these  men,  rendered  savage  as  they  had  been  by 
ill-treatment. 

*  The  farm  was  let  by  Mr.  Vandeleur  at  a  fixed  rent,  to  be  paid  in  fixed  quantities 
of  farm  produce,  which,  at  the  prices  ruling  in  1830-31,  would  bring  in  £900,  which  in- 
cluded interest  on  buildings,  machinery,  and  live  stock  provided  by  Mr  Vandeleur. 
The  rent  alone  was  £700.  As  the  farm  consisted  of  618  acres,  only  268  of  which  were 
under  tillage,  this  rent  was  a  very  high  one — a  fact  which  was  acknowledged  by  the 
landlord  All  profits  after  payment  of  rent  and  interest  belonged  to  the  membeis,  di- 
visible at  the  end  of  the  year  if  desired.  They  started  a  co-operative  store  to  supply 
themselves  with  food  and  clothing,  and  the  estate  was  managed  by  a  committee  of  the 
members,  who  paid  every  male  and  female  member  wages  for  their  labor  in  labor 
notes  which  were  exchangeable  at  the  store  for  goods  or  cash.  Intoxicating  drink  or 
tobacco  were  prohibited.  The  committee  each  day  allotted  each  man  his  duties  The 
members  worked  the  land  partly  as  kitchen  garden  and  fruit  orchards,  and  partly  as 
dairy  farm,  stall  feedmg  being  encouraged  and  root  crops  grown  for  the  cattle  Pigs- 
poultry  &c,  were  reared.  Wages  at  the  time  were  only  8d.  per  day  for  men,  and  sd. 
for  women,  and  the  members  were  paid  at  these  rates.  Yet,  as  they  lived  chiefly  on 
potatoes  and  milk  produced  on  the  farm,  which,  as  well  as  mutton  and  pork,  were 
sold  to  them  at  extremely  low  prices.,  they  saved  money  or  rather  notes.  Their  health 
and  appearance  quickly  improved,  so  much  so  that,  with  disease  raging  around  them, 
there  was  no  case  of  death  or  serious  illness  among  them  while  the  experiment 
lasted.  The  single  men  lived  together  in  a  large  building,  and  the  families  in  cot- 
tages. Assisted  by  Mrs,  Craig,  the  secretary  carried  out  the  most  enlightened  system 
of  education  for  the  young,  those  old  enough  being  alternately  employed  on  the  farm 
and  in  the  school.  Sanitary  arrangements  were  in  a  high  state  of  perfection,  and 
physical  and  moral  training  were  most  carefully  attended  to.  In  respect  of  these  and 
other  social  arrangements,  Mr  Craig  was  a  man  much  before  his  time,  and  he  has 
since  made  himself  a  name  in  connection  with  their  application  in  various  parts  of 
the  country. 

The 'New  System,'  as  the  Ralahine  experiment  was  called  though  at  first  re- 
garded with  suspicion  and  derision,  quickly  gained  favor  in  the  district,  so  that  before 
long  outsiders  were  extremely  anxious  to  become  members  of  the  association.  In  Janu- 
ary. 1832,  the  community  consisted  of  fifty  adults  and  seventeen  children  The  total 
number  afterwards  increased  to  eighty-one.  Everything  was  prosperous,  and  the 
members  of  the  association  were  not  only  benefitted  themselves,  but  their  improve- 
ment exercised  a  beneficent  influence  upon  the  people  ,in  their  neighborhood  It  was 
hoped  that  other  landlords  would  imitate  the  excellent  example  of  Mr  Vandeleur 
especially  as  his  experiment  was  one  profitable  to  himself,  as  well  as  calculated  to 
produce  peace  and  contentment  in  disturbed  Ireland.    Just  when  these  hopes  were 


APPENDIX  xvii 

raised  to  their  highest  degree  of  expectancy,  the  happy  community  at  Ralahine  was 
broken  up  through  the  ruin  and  flight  of  Mr.  Vandeleur,  who  had  lost  his  property 
by  gambling  Everything  was  sold  ofif,  and  the  labor  notes  saved  by  the  members 
would  have  been  worthless  had  not  Mr.  Craig,  with  noble  self-sacrifice,  redeemed 
them  out  of  his  own  pocket. 

"We  have  given  but  a  very  scanty  description  of  the  system  pursued  at  Ralahine. 
The  arrangements  were  in  most  respects  admirable,  and  reflected  the  greatest  credit 
upon  Mr.  Craig  as  an  organizer  and  administrator.  To  his  wisdom,  energy,  tact  and 
forbearance  the  success  of  his  experiment  was  in  great  measure  due,  and  it  is  greatly 
to  be  regretted  that  he  was  not  in  a  position  to  repeat  the  attempt  under  more  favor- 
able circumstances." 

C"  History  of  a  Co-operative  Farm,") 


CARLYLE    ON    THE   SOCIAL    OBLIGATIONS    OF    THE    NATION     FORTY- 
FIVE  YEARS  AGO. 

■  Inserted  at  the  earnest  request  of  a  friend,  who  was  struck  by  the  coincidenee  of  sotnc 

ideas,  similar  to  those  of  this  volume,  set  forth  so  long  ago,  but  as  yet 

remaining  unrealized,  and  which  I  have  never  read. 

EXTRACTS   FROM    "PAST   AND    PRESENT.' 

"A  Prime  Minister,  even  here  in  England,  who  shall  dare  believe  the  heavenly 
omens,  and  address  himself  like  a  man  and  hero  to  the  great  dumb-struggling  heart 
of  England,  and  speak  out  for  it,  and  act  out  for  it;  the  God  s-Justice  it  is  writhing  to 
get  uttered  and  perishing  for  want  of — yes,  he  too  will  see  awaken  round  him,  in  pas- 
sionate, burning;  all-defiant  loyalty;  the  heart  of  England-  and  such  a  'support '  as 
no  Division-List  or  Parliamentary  Majority  was  ever  yet  known  to  yield  a  man  I  Here 
as  there,  now  as  theU;  he  who  can  and  dare  trust  the  heavenly  Immensities,  all 
earthly  Localities  are  subject  to  him  We  will  pray  for  such  a  man  and  First-Lord— 
yes,  and  far  better,  we  will  strive  and  incessantly  make  ready,  each  of  us,  to  be  worthy 
to  serve  and  second  such  a  First-Lord  !  We  shall  then  be  as  good  as  sure  of  his 
arriving;  sure  of  many  things,  let  him  arrive  or  not. 

*  Who  can  despair  of  Governments  that  passes  a  Soldier's  Guard-house,  or  meets 
a  red-coated  man  on  the  streets  ?  That  a  body  of  men  could  be  got  together  to  kill 
other  men  when  you  bade  them;  this,  a  priori,  does  it  not  seem  one  of  the  impossi- 
blest  things  ?  Yet  look,  behold  it:  in  the  stolidest  of  Do-nothing  Governments,  that 
impossibility  is  a  thing  done," 

—{Carlyle,  "  Past  and  Present,"  page  223  ) 

"  Strange,  interesting,  and  yet  most  mournful  to  reflect  on.  Was  this  then,  of  all 
the  things  mankind  had  some  talent  for.  the  one  thing,  important  to  learn  well,  and 
bring  to  perfection;  this  of  successfully  killing  one  another  ?  Truly,  you  have  learned 
it  well,  and  carried  the  business  to  a  high  perfection.  It  is  incalculable  what,  by 
arranging,  commanding  and  regimenting  you  can  make  of  men.  These  thousand 
straight-standing,  firm-set  individuals,  who  shoulder  arms,  who  march,  wheel,  advance, 
retreat;  and  are,  for  your  behoof  a  magazine  charged  with  fiery  death,  in  the  most 
perfect  condition  of  potential  activity  Few  months  ago,  till  the  persuasive  sergeant 
came,  what  were  they  ?  Multiform  ragged  losels,  runaway  apprentices,  starved 
weaverS;  thievish  valets;  an  entirely  broken  population,  fast  tending  towards  the 
treadmill.  But  the  persuasive  sergeant  came,  by  tap  of  drum  enlisted,  or  formed 
lists  of  them,  took  heartily  to  drilling  them;  and  he  and  you  have  made  them  this ! 
Most  potent  effectual  for  all  work  whatsoever,  is  wise  planning,  firm,  combining  and 
commanding  among  men.    Let  no  man  despair  of  Governments  who  look  on  these 


xviii  APPENDIX 

two  sentries  at  the  Horse  Guards  and  our  United  Service  clubs.  I  could  conceive  an 
Emigration  Service,  a  Teaching  Service,  considerable  varieties  of  United  and  Sepa- 
rate services,  of  the  due  thousands  strong,  all  effective  as  this  Fighting  Service  is;  all 
doing  their  work  like  it — which  work,  much  more  than  fighting,  is  henceforth  the  nec- 
essity of  these  new  ages  we  are  got  into  1  Much  lies  among  us,  convulsively,  nigh  des- 
perately, struggling  to  be  born.'* 

— ("Past  and  Present,"  page  224  ) 

"  It  was  well,  all  this  we  know;  and  yet  it  was  not  well.  Forty  soldiers,  I  am  told, 
will  disperse  the  largest  Spitalfields  mob,  forty  to  ten  thousand,  that  is  the  proportion 
between  drilled  and  undrilled  Much  there  is  which  cannot  yet  be  organized  in  this 
world  but  somewhat  also  which  can— somewhat  also  which  must.  When  one  thinks, 
for  example,  what  books  are  become  and  becoming  for  us  what  operative  Lancashires 
are  become,  what  a  Fourth  Estate  and  innumerable  virtualities  not  yet  got  to  be  actu- 
alities are  become  and  becoming,  one  sees  organisms  enough  in  the  dim,  huge  future, 
and  United  Services  quite  other  than  the  redcoat  one;  and  much,  even  in  these 
years,  struggling  to  be  born  I " 

— ("Past  and  Present,"  page  226. 

"An  effective  'Teaching  Service,'  I  do  consider  that  there  must  be:  some  educa- 
tion secretary,  captain-general  of  teachers,  who  will  actually  contrive  to  get  us  taught. 
Then  again,  why  should  there  not  be  an  *  Emigration  Service,'  and  secretary  with 
adjuncts,  \vith  funds,  forces,  idle  navy  ships,  and  ever-increasing  apparatus,  in  fine  an 
effective  system  of  emigration,  so  that  at  length  before  our  twenty  years  of  respite 
ended,  every  honest,  willing  workman  who  found  England  too  strait,  and  the  'organi- 
zation of  labor'  not  yet  sufficiently  advanced,  might  find  likewise  a  bridge  built  to  carry 
him  into  new  western  lands,  there  to  'organize'  with  more  elbow  room  some  labor  for 
himself  I  There  to  be  a  real  blessing,  raising  new  corn  for  us,  purchasing  new  webs 
and  hatchets  from  us;  leaving  us  at  least  in  peace;  instead  of  staying  here  to  be  a 
physical-force  Chartist,  unblessed  and  no  blessing  I  Is  it  not  scandalous  to  consider 
that  a  Prime  Minister  could  raise  within  the  year,  as  I  have  seen  it  done,  a  hundred 
and  twenty  millions  sterling  to  shoot  the  Freiich;  and  we  are  stopped  short  for  want 
of  the  hundredth  part  of  that  to  keep  the  English  Living  ?  The  bodies  of  the  English 
living,  and  the  souls  of  the  English  living,  these  two  'Services,'  an  Education  Ser- 
vice and  an  Emigration  Service,  these  with  others,  will  have  actually  to  be  organized, 

"  A  free  bridge  for  emigrantsi  Why,  we  should  then  be  on  a  par  with  America  it- 
self, the  most  favored  of  all  lands  that  have  no  government;  and  we  should  have,  be- 
sides, so  many  traditions  and  mementos  of  priceless  things  which  America  has  cast 
away.  We  could  proceed  deliberately  to  organize  labor  not  doomed  to  perish  unless 
we  effected  it  within  year  and  day  every  willing  worker  that  pioved  superfluous,  find- 
ing a  bridge  ready  for  him.  This  verily  will  have  to  be  done;  the  time  is  big  with  this. 
Our  little  Isle  is  grown  too  narrow  for  us;  but  the  world  is  wide  enough  yet  for  another 
six  fhousand  years.  England's  sure  markets  will  be  among  new  colonies  of  English- 
men in  all  quarters  of  the  Globe,  All  men  trade  with  all  men  when  mutually  conven- 
ient, and  are  even  bound  to  do  it  by  the  Maker  of  Men.  Our  friends  of  China,  who 
guiltily  refused  to  trade  in  these  circumstances— had  we  not  to  argue  with  them,  in 
cannon-shot  at  last,  and  convince  them  that  they  ought  to  trade  ?  'Hostile  tariffs" 
will  arise  to  shut  us  out,  and  then,  again,  will  fall  to  let  us  in;  bnttheson  of  England 
— speakers  of  the  English  language,  were  it  nothing  more — will  in  all  times  have  the 
irieradicable  predisposition  to  trade  with  England.  Mycale  was  the  Pan-Ionian — 
rendezvous  of  all  the  tribes  of  Ion — for  old  Greece;  why  should  not  London  long  con- 
tinue the  All  Saxon  Home,  rendezvous  of  all  the  '  Children  of  the  Harz-Rock'  arriving 
in  secret  samples,  from  the  Antipodes  and  elsewhere,  by  steam  and  otherwise,  to  the 
•  season '  here  ?  What  a  future  I  Wide  as  the  world,  if  we  have  the  heart  and  bereism 
for  it,  which  by  Heaven's  blessing,  we  shall. 


APPENDIX  xix 

*'  Keep  not  standing  fixed  and  rooted. 
I  Btiskly  venture,  briskly  roam; 

I  Head  and  hand,  where'er  thou  foot  it, 

i  And  stout  heart  are  still  at  home: 

!  In  what  land  the  sun  does  visit 

!  Brisk  are  we,  what  e'er  betide; 

To  give  space  for  wandering  is  it 

That  the  world  was  made  so  wide. 

"Fourteen  hundred  years  ago  it  was  a  considerable  '  Emigration  Service,'  never 
doubt  it,  by  much  enlistment,  discussion  and  apparatus  that  we  ourselves  arrived 
in  this  remarkable  island,  and  got  into  our  present  difficulties  among  others.' 

— ("Past  and  Present,"  pages  228-230.) 
"  The  main  substance  of  this  immense  problem  of  organizing  labor  and  first  of  all  of 
managing  the  working  classes,  will,  it  is  very  clear,  have  to  be  solved  by  those  who 
stand  practically  in  the  middle  of  it,  by  those  who  themselves  work  and  preside  over 
work.  Of  all  that  can  be  enacted  by  any  Parliament  in  regard  to  it,  the  germs  must 
already  lie  potentially  extant  in  those  two  classes  who  are  to  obey  sncli  enactment.  A 
human  chaos  in  which  there  is  no  light,  you  vainly  attempt  to  irradiate  by  light  shed 
on  it;  order  never  can  arise  there." 

— ('  Past  and  Present,'  pages  231-32.) 

"  Look  around  you.  Your  world-hosts  are  all  in  mutiny,  in  confusion,  destitution, 
on  the  eve  of  fiery  wreck  and  madness  They  will  not  march  farther  for  you,  on  the 
six-pence  a  day  and  supply-and-demand  principle;  they  will  not;  nor  ought  they; 
nor  can  they.  We  shall  reduce  them  to  order;  begin  reducing  them  to  order,  to  just 
subordination;  noble  loyalty  in  return  for  noble  guidance  Their  souls  aie  driven 
nigh  mad;  let  yours  be  sane  and  never  saner.  Not  as  a  bewildered  bewildering  mob, 
but  as  a  firm  regimented  mass,  with  real  captains  over  them,  will  these  men  march 
any  more.  All  human  interests,  combined  human  endeavors,  and  social  growth  in  this 
world  have;  at  a  certain  stage  of  their  development,  required  organizing;  and  work, 
the  greatest  of  human  interests,  does  not  require  it. 

•'Difficult?  Yes,  it  will  be  difficult.  The  short-fiber  cotton;  that,  too,  was  difficult. 
The  waste  cotton  shrub,  long  useless,  disobedient  as  the  thistle  by  the  wayside;  have 
ye  not  conquered  it,  made  it  into  beautiful  bandana  webs,  white  woven  shirts  for  men, 
bright  tint3d  air  garments  wherein  flit  goddesses?  Ye  have  shivered  mountains 
asunder,  made  the  hard  iron  pliant  to  you  as  putty;  the  forest-giants — marsh-jotuns — 
bear  sheaves  of  golden  grain;  iEgir — the  Sea-Demon  himself  stretches  his  back  for  a 
sleek  highway  to  you,  and  on  Firehorses  and  Windhorses  ye  career,  Ye  are  most 
strong.  Thor,  red-bearded,  with  his  blue  sun-eyes,  with  his  cheery  heart  and  strong 
thunder-hammer,  he  and  you  have  prevailed.  Ye  are  most  strong,  ye  Sons  of  icy 
North,  of  the  far  East,  far  marching  from  your  rugged  Eastern  Wildnesses,  hitherward 
from  the  gray  dawn  of  Timel  Ye  are  Sons  of  the  Jotun-\z.ndi;  the  land  of  Difficulties 
Conquered.  Difficult?  You  must  try  this  thing.  Once  try  it  with  the  understanding 
that  it  will  and  shall  have  to  be  done.  Try  it  as  you  try  the  paltrier  thing,  making  of 
moneyl  I  will  bet  on  you  once  more,  against  Jotins,  Tailor-gods,  Double-barrelled 
Law-wards,  and  Denizens  of  Chaos  whatsoever." 

— ("Past  and  Present,"  pages  236-37.) 

"A  question  here  arises:  Whether  in  some  ulterior,  perhaps  not  far-distant  stage 
of  this  'Chivalry  of  Labor,'  your  Master-Worker  may  not  find  it  possible,  and  needful, 
to  grant  his  Workers  permanent  z'«2ffi'r?j/  in  his  enterprise  and  theirs?  So  that  it  be- 
come, in  practical  result,  what  in  essential  act  and  justice  it  ever  is,  a  joint  ente  - 
_prise;  all  men,  from  the  Chief  Master  down  to  the  lowest  Overseer  and  Operative, 
economically  as  well  as  loyally  concerned  for  it?    Which  question  I  do  not  answer. 


XX  APPENDIX 

The  answer,  here  or  else  far,  is  perhaps,  Yes;  and  yet  one  knows  the  difficulties. 
Despotism  is  essential  in  most  enterprises;  I  am  told  they  do  not  tolerate  freedom  of 
debate  on  board  a  seventy-four.  Republican  senate  and  plebiscite  would  not  answer 
well  in  cotton  mills.  And  yet,  observe  there  too.  Freedom— not  nomad  s  or  ape's 
Freedom,  but  man's  Freedom;  this  is  indispensable.  We  must  have  it  and  will  have 
itl  To  reconcile  Despotism  with  freedom — well,  is  that  such  a  mystery?  Do  you  not 
already  know  the  way?  It  is  to  make  your  Despotismy«i-2f  Rigorous  as  Destiny,  but 
just,  too,  as  Destiny  and  its  Laws.  The  Laws  ot  God;  all  men  obey  these,  and  have  no 
'Freedom' at  all  but  in  obeying  them.  The  way  is  already  known,  part  of  the  way; 
and  courage  and  some  qualities  are  needed  for  walking  on  it." 

—("Past  and  Present,"  pages  241-42.) 
"  Not  a  hay-game  is  this  man's  life,  but  a  battle  and  a  march,  a  warfare  with  princi- 
palities and  powers,  No  idle  promenade  through  fragrant  orange-groves  and  green 
flowery  spaces,  waited  on  by  the  choral  Muses  and  rosy  Hours.  It  is  a  stern  pilgrim- 
age through  burning  sandy  solitudes,  through  regions  of  thick-ribbed  ice.  He  walks 
among  men,  loves  men  with  inexpressible  soft  pity,  as  they  cannot  love  him,  but  his 
soul  dwells  in  solitude  in  the  uppermost  parts  of  creation  In  green  oases  by  the  palm- 
tree  wells  he  rests  a  space,  but  anon  he  has  to  journey  forward,  escorted  by  the  Terrors 
and  the  Splendors,  the  Archdemons  and  Archangels.  All  Heaven,  all  Pandemonium 
are  his  escort.  The  stars  keen-glancing  from  the  Intensities  send  tidings  to  him;  the 
graves,  silent  with  their  dead,  from  the  Eternities.    Deep  calls  for  him  unto  Deep." 

—("Past  and  Present,"  page  249.) 


THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  AND  THE  SOCIAL  QUESTION. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Barry  read  a  paper  at  the  Catholic  Conference  on  June  30th,  1890, 
from  which  I  take  the  following  extracts  as  illustrative  of  the  rising  feeling  on  this 
subject  in  the  Catholic  Church.  The  Rev,  Dr,  Barry  began  by  defining  the  proletariat 
as  those  who  have  only  one  possession — their  labor.  Those  who  have  no  land,  and  no 
stake  in  the  land,  no  house  and  no  home  except  the  few  sticks  of  furniture  they  signifi- 
cantly call  by  the  name,  no  right  to  employment,  but  at  the  most  a  right  to  poor  relief;  and 
who,  until  the  last  20  years,  had  not  even  a  right  to  be  educated  unless  by  the  charity 
of  their  '*  betters  "  The  class  which  without  figure  of  speech  or  flights  of  rhetoriC;  is 
homeless,  landless,  propertyless  in  our  chief  cities — that  I  call  the  proletariat.  Of  the 
proletariat  he  declared  there  were  hundreds  of  thousands  growing  up  outside  the  pale 
of  all  churches. 

He  continued;  For  it  is  frightfully  evident  that  Christianity  has  not  kept  pace 
with  the  population;  that  it  has  lagged  terribly  behind;  that,  in  plain  words, 
we  have  in  our  midst  a  nation  of  heathens  to  whom  the  ideals,  the  practices, 
and  the  commandments  of  religion  are  things  unknown — as  little  realized  in  the 
miles  on  miles  of  tenement- houses,  and  the  factories  which  have  produced  them, 
as  though  Christ  had  never  lived  or  never  died  How  could  it  be  otherwise  ? 
The  great  mass  of  men  and  women  have  never  had  time  for  religion  You 
cannot  expect  them  to  work  double-tides.  With  hard  physical  labor,  from 
morning  till  night  in  the  surroundings  we  know  and  see,  how  much  mind 
and  leisure  is  left  for  higher  things  on  six  days  of  the  week  ?        •  .  : 

We  must  look  this  matter  in  the  face  I  do  not  pretend  to  establish  the  proportion 
between  different  sections  in  which  these  things  happen.  Still  less  am  I  willing  to 
lay  the  blame  on  those  who  are  houseless,  landless  and  propertyless.  What  I  say  is 
that  if  the  Government  of  a  country  allows  millions  of  human  beings  to  be  thrown  into 
such  conditions  of  living  and  working  as  we  have  seen,  these  are  the  consequence^ 
that  must  bo  looked  for.    "A  child,"  said  the  Anglican  Bishop  South,  "has  a  right  to  be 


APPENDIX  xxi 

born,  and  not  to  be  damned  into  the  world."  Here  have  been  millions  of  children 
literally  "'damned  into  the  world,"  neither  their  heads  nor  their  hands  trained  to 
anything  useful,  their  miserable  subsistence  a  thing  to  be  fought  and  scrambled  for. 
their  homes,  reeking  dens  under  the  law  of  lease-holding  which  has  produced  outcast 
London  and  horrible  Glasgow,  their  right  to  a  playground  and  amusement  curtailed 
to  the  running  gutter,  and  their  great  "object-lesson"  in  life  the  drunken  parents 
who  end  so  often  in  the  prison,  the  hospital  and  the  workhouse.  We  need  not  b@ 
astonished  if  these  not  only  are  not  Christians,  but  have  never  understood  why  they 
should  be.     .     .     . 

The  social  condition  has  created  this  domestic  heathenism.  Then  the  social 
condition  must  be  changed.  We  stand  in  need  of  a  public  creed — of  a  social,  and  if 
you  will  understand  the  word,  of  a  lay  Christianity.  This  work  cannot  be  done  by  the 
clergy,  nor  within  the  four  walls  of  a  church.  The  field  of  battle  lies  in  the  school. 
the  home,  the  street,  the  tavern,  the  market,  and  wherever  men  come  together.  To 
make  the  people  Christian  they  must  be  restored  to  their  homes,  and  their  homes  to 
tbera.  , 


m 


%. 


^ 


LIBRARY  OF  CONGRESS   ^ 

0  029  827  398  6